Perfect
by Darkalley29
Summary: No good deed goes unpunished. Elliot's world is shaken when someone from his past tries to hijack his future.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own SVU or its characters. They are the property of Dick Wolf.

**Chapter 1 - Fair**

His life was perfect.

It wasn't fair.

Winter had a merciless grip on Manhattan as Seth sat quietly, pondering fate's cruelty. The warmth emanating from his Styrofoam coffee cup seeped through the thin material of his gloves, causing his fingers to tingle pleasantly. He was reluctant to drink the coffee now, because the heat in his fingers was a welcome contrast to the rest of his body, which was bitter cold. The iron rails of the bench on which he sat were like icy fingers pressing stiffly into his back as the frigid wind seared his ears and numbed the tip of his nose. His worn winter jacket was a poor defense against Mother Nature, deflecting some of the harsh wind but still permitting glacial air to settle in his bones and make him shiver.

Pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and sniffling absently, Seth gazed out over the outdoor ice rink that sat ten feet away, inhabiting a corner of the block. In the early evening, the rink was a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns, formed by the eclectic array of coats and parkas that dotted the ice surface. The bundled up owners of the winter gear demonstrated varying degrees of prowess on the ice. Some whizzed effortlessly around the surface, their glistening blades leaving harsh gouges in their wake. Others moved tentatively, wobbling precariously in the sallow light cast by the giant iron streetlights standing guard on all four corners of the rink.

There was no shortage of things to watch, but Seth's gray eyes were focused intently on one particular couple. They skated smoothly across the ice, matching strides, not hurried like some, but not unsteady either. The man wore a puffy black winter jacket, its collar turned up to fend off the icy breeze, and a grey tuque, pulled down firmly over his ears. The woman was also in black, clad in a pea coat buttoned up tightly under her chin. A green knit scarf peeked out at her neck, a perfect complement to the green cap and mittens that protected her extremities. Her dark hair spilled out from underneath the rim of the cap and her cheeks were rosy with cold. The man and woman weren't touching as they skated, save for the occasional brush of their shoulders. As far as Seth could tell they didn't seem to be talking either, but their silence didn't appear awkward. Both looked content just . . . being.

It wasn't fair.

At one point the man lost his balance, flailed, and went tumbling hard to the ice. The woman, startled, made a futile move to grab him. The motion threw her off balance as well, but she managed to stay on her feet. Instinctively Seth leapt up, a protective streak of adrenaline flooding his bloodstream. Hot coffee sloshed all over the arm of his jacket but he barely noticed. He had taken two steps forward, closing the distance between himself and the rink, when he noticed the man laughing and felt relief wash over him. Slowly, Seth lowered himself back onto the bench, swiping absently at the splash of spilled coffee. When he returned his gaze to the rink, he saw the woman offer the man her hands, grinning down at him. He took her up on the offer, hauling himself to his feet with her support. They slipped a little on the slick surface, but the man steadied them both this time, wrapping his arms around her. They were laughing now, their expelled breath forming white clouds in the dark evening air, and Seth couldn't help but smile as well.

The other skaters slid past the couple, paying no attention, but Seth absorbed every move, committing the moment to memory. He felt his breath hitch as the woman reached up and kissed the man softly, as if they were all alone on the rink. As their eyes fluttered closed, Seth ran his index finger over his lips, closing his own eyes and trying his damndest to imagine what it must feel like. Seth had watched them kiss a million times, and was amazed at how they seemed to treat each time as if it were their first time. To be kissed with that kind of passion . . . .

It wasn't fair.

After a moment they separated, the woman stepping back with a smile and offering her green gloved hand to the man. He wrapped it carefully in his and they resumed skating, once again lapsing into silence. As they slid past the corner of the rink where Seth sat, patiently watching, the man glanced in his direction. Instantly Seth's heart started to pound excitedly and his mouth went dry. He knew deep down that the man wasn't seeing him, not really. It was more of an absent glance, a survey of the scenery, but it was still enough to make Seth feel giddy.

His idol. Mere feet away.

Such close proximity wasn't a rare occurrence by any means. Still, every time without fail, Seth felt his heart thump and his stomach bottom out with even the most fleeting look. If the man were to ever speak to him, Seth feared he would pass out and embarrass the hell out of himself.

As quick as the moment happened, it passed. The couple continued their lap around the rink and Seth blew out the breath he had been holding, taking a shaky sip from his cup. The coffee was starting to lose its battle with the cold, and he wondered how much longer they would be. He ached to get back to the stale warmth of his rented apartment.

Really, Seth should hate the man. He was the embodiment of every high school jock that had made Seth's life a living hell. He was good-looking, strong, fit, well-liked, intelligent, and confident - the complete opposite of what Seth had been then; hell, of what he was even now. The man had a respectable job, a gorgeous girlfriend, healthy kids, a nice apartment, a nice car, and loyal friends. Seth would kill for even half of that.

It wasn't fair.

The man's life truly was perfect. If it were anyone else but Elliot Stabler, Seth would have hated him.

But Seth simply couldn't hate Elliot Stabler.

Seth's mind snapped back to the present just in time to see the couple clamber off the rink, Elliot holding out his hand to steady Olivia as she stepped from the slippery ice to the sticky surface of the rubber mats surrounding the rink. Together they lumbered over to the wooden bench that quietly kept vigil beside the ice and began removing their skates.

Seth leaned over and tossed his near-empty coffee cup into the trash bin beside him before hunkering down into his coat. He watched them unobtrusively out of the corner of his eye as they stood up, Elliot slinging both pairs of skates over his shoulder. Hand in hand, they headed back toward the road. Seth's breathing accelerated as they strolled past him, no more than three feet away, talking quietly. He pretended to be focused on the activity on the rink, even waving at an imaginary person, but in reality all he was aware of was their closeness.

Once they disappeared around the corner of the block, Seth stood up, stretched, and followed behind them at a leisurely pace. There was no need to rush. He knew where they were going. Back to Elliot's perfect apartment. Where they would eat perfect food, watch his perfect big screen TV, and make perfect love. Perfect. Just perfect.

It wasn't fair.

Seth meandered slowly behind the couple, careful to cut down side streets and walk on the opposite side of the street on occasion. He dodged patches of ice as he walked, keeping his distance but not letting them out of his sight. He watched Olivia link her arm through Elliot's, leaning into him as they walked, as if trying to absorb his warmth. The gazes they exchanged were full of affection, and Seth felt a stab of envy.

Oh, to have someone look at him that way.

Seth disappeared silently into a nearby alley when the couple arrived at Elliot's apartment building. He shifted his weight from side to side to keep his blood flowing as he watched them enter through the glass doors at the front of the building. As the evening progressed, the temperature was dropping rapidly. He was itching for a cigarette. Just a puff, not even a whole one, but he didn't have any. He had given up smoking.

Elliot didn't smoke.

The street in front of Elliot's building was quiet – most of the city's residents were undoubtedly tucked inside their homes, hiding from the cold. After several minutes, lights went on in the corner apartment on the fifth floor and Seth saw movement behind the filmy curtains that covered the kitchen window. Knowing they likely wouldn't be going anywhere else that night as they had to work in the morning, Seth slid out of the alley and trudged home to his apartment a few blocks away.

It really wasn't fair.

If anyone deserved a perfect life, Elliot Stabler did. But so did Seth. The difference was that Seth didn't have one.

But that was going to change.

Seth wanted a perfect life. He wanted Elliot Stabler's perfect life.

And he would have it.

Soon.


	2. Obligation

**Chapter 2 – Obligation **

For most people, the shrill ring of the telephone at 3:14 am prompted a flare of panic and a flicker of dread that took root in the pit of one's stomach and flooded the veins as if a dam had broken. It was an ominous noise - no good ever came from a call at that hour of the morning.

But Elliot Stabler was used to it.

It was not unusual for his phone to trill at all hours of the morning, jolting him out of slumber. It was never good news for Elliot either, but it didn't incite in him the same panic that it did in most everyone else. It was usually news of yet another life snuffed out, of another rape victim clinging to consciousness, of another witness in shock, of another perp on the run. It meant he would need to extricate himself from his warm bed and strike out into the gloomy night, into another person's nightmare.

So when his cell jangled shortly after 3 a.m. that morning, Elliot felt no panic - just a dull sense of sadness and resignation. He had been having a nice dream, damn it.

Groaning and squeezing his eyes shut tighter, Elliot rolled onto his back and flung his arm toward the oak nightstand, eager to silence the phone's demanding squeal. His floundering limb knocked his watch and wallet off the smooth surface, but did nothing to quiet the cell's insistent call. Cursing, he opened his eyes and fumbled around the table until his fingers eventually located the smooth plastic. Drawing it close to his face, he flipped it open, squinting against the harsh light of the neon display.

Kathy. Double damn it.

"What's wrong?" Elliot grunted, skipping all pleasantries as he closed his eyes again and lay back against his soft foam pillow. Beside him, Olivia stirred, rolling onto her back and brushing loose locks of mahogany hair off her face but not opening her eyes.

"Elliot, I need you to come over. Now." On the other end of the phone, his ex-wife's voice was laced with anxiety. In the background, he could hear the familiar cries of his youngest son.

"It's 3 a.m. Kathy. What's the matter this time?" Elliot asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Eli had a nightmare. He's beside himself and won't let me comfort him. He keeps asking for you."

Beside Elliot, Olivia slowly opened her soft hazel eyes, lifted her head, and squinted at him.

"Cragen?" she mouthed, brows furrowed questioningly. Elliot shook his head absently and leaned forward, kissing her forehead as Kathy droned on about how exhausted she was and how impossible Eli had been since the separation.

Had it been the first time he had heard these complaints, he would have been concerned. But it wasn't, not by a long shot. This call, or one very similar to it, had been coming more and more frequently. Invariably Kathy was overreacting. Eli had been more difficult lately yes, but his behavior was hardly worth the dramatics she assigned to it.

"Elliot, your son needs you. And I need your help. Please." Kathy's voice trembled just as Eli hiccupped loudly and resumed his wails in the background. Rubbing a hand over his stubbly chin tiredly, Elliot sighed loudly. Outside, a cold winter wind whipped wildly and he could hear the ping of tiny ice pellets against the bedroom window. Inside, his bed was warm and Olivia was snuggled against him, her face buried into his neck, making his intense internal debate all the more difficult.

In the end, a sense of obligation and concern for his son won out.

"All right. I'll be there as soon as I can." Without waiting for a response, Elliot snapped his phone shut and tossed it beside him on the bed. Groaning wearily, he closed his eyes and rested his nose in Olivia's hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo.

"That was Kathy again, wasn't it?" Olivia's breath was soft and warm against his neck as she draped her arm around his waist.

"I'm sorry she woke you," he murmured, kissing the bridge of her nose before slipping out from between the soft cotton blankets. "Go back to sleep. We have work in a few hours." In the moonlight that snuck in through the ice-covered window, he fumbled around for his boxers, a pair of jeans, and a sweatshirt.

"What's wrong this time?" Olivia's voice was rusty with sleep. Clearing her throat, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, wrapping the blue cotton sheet around her. She was soft and beautiful in the gentle light of the moon.

Elliot sighed tiredly as he tugged on his pants. "Eli had a nightmare. Kathy can't calm him. He keeps asking for me."

"Hmmm."

"Don't start with me Liv," Elliot warned, yanking his sweatshirt over his head. "It's too early or too late or whatever to get into this again."

Olivia raised her hands in mock surrender. "I didn't say anything."

"Eli's going through a phase where he needs his father. He's my son. What do you want from me?" The words came out sharper than he intended, but she only raised her eyebrows mildly and kept her tone neutral.

"Is it Eli going through a phase where he needs you, or is it Kathy?"

"Liv . . ." Elliot's irritation was obvious in both his voice and posture, but Olivia was never one to back away from a disagreement. As Elliot grabbed his fallen wallet and watch, she pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, watching him thoughtfully.

"I'm just making an observation El. She calls pretty much every day, needing you to come over for one thing or another."

Elliot shoved his wallet in his pocket and snapped his silver watch around his wrist. "Liv, Kathy and I may be divorced now, but that doesn't change the fact we have five children together, three of which still live at home. She is going to be a part of my life forever in some form or another."

"Don't treat me like I'm an idiot Elliot." Olivia felt her hackles slowly begin to rise in response to his tone. "I know all that, and I respect it. But she's been running you ragged lately. You are too busy doing her bidding to take care of yourself."

"I'm not happy about this either Liv. Believe me, I would rather be in that warm bed with you than trudging out into the cold at 3:30 am to deal with a screaming child. But this has been a difficult transition for us all, and it's been the roughest on Kathy and Eli. I need to be there for them. That's my responsibility."

Knowing she wouldn't win this argument, Olivia finally just shrugged and rolled over onto her side, burrowing back under the covers. As she pulled the blankets up around her ears to block out the cold, she felt an uncomfortable sensation settle into the pit of her stomach. It felt distinctly like jealousy. Closing her eyes, she tried unsuccessfully to bat the sensation away.

A few seconds later, the old four-poster bed creaked and the mattress shifted as Elliot's weight lowered onto it. She kept her eyes tightly closed even as she felt his arm wrap around her and his nose nuzzle her hair. He kissed her softly just below the ear and, despite her exasperation with the situation, she felt herself melt just a little.

"I'm sorry baby," he whispered, caressing her hip softly through the blanket. "I'll be back soon. I love you."

He gave her a moment to respond in kind, but when she lay silent and expressionless in the muted light of the moon, he relented and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

An hour and fifteen minutes later in Queens, Eli was fast asleep, snoring delicately under his green checkered blanket.

Leaning over, Elliot dropped a kiss on his youngest son's forehead and walked on tiptoe out of the room, cursing quietly as he stepped on a toy truck. Elliot's eyes burned with exhaustion as he gently closed the door behind him, emitting a sigh of relief. Eli had calmed quickly after seeing Elliot, but it had still been a struggle to get him to a state where sleep was possible. Now Elliot wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and steal a couple hours of sleep before the alarm went off, signaling the start of yet another workday.

Stepping carefully to avoid the squeaky floorboard he knew so well, he peeked first into Dickie's and then into Elizabeth's room, smiling at his two teenagers as they slept peacefully, their faces devoid of the usual teenage angst.

"Thank you El." Kathy's voice was a gentle whisper behind him as he lightly clicked Elizabeth's door closed. Turning to face her, he noticed for the first time how truly worn out she did look. Her naturally pale face was even paler than usual, her eyes marred by dark circles, her oversized T-shirt hanging loose on her thin frame. She had lost weight and her cheekbones pushed tightly against her skin. In that moment, he felt guilty for snapping at her the second he walked in the door.

"You're welcome Kath. You should get some rest yourself. You look exhausted." He smiled kindly at his ex-wife before grabbing his winter jacket and bracing himself for the cold. He had almost made it to the front door when Kathy suddenly grabbed his arm.

"Stay. Please."

Tensing at her words, Elliot felt a flash of annoyance. First Olivia was busting his chops, now Kathy. A guy just couldn't win. Still, he tried to push his frustration away as he turned to face her. It took all he had to keep his voice soft.

"I'm going home Kath."

"That apartment is not your home El. This is still your home. This is where your children are. Please." Kathy's voice was almost pitiful as she gazed at him. "Stay. Dickie and Elizabeth will be thrilled to see you in the morning. I'll sleep better too, knowing that you're here. I'll even take the couch. You can have the bed."

"Where's Carl?" Kathy's boyfriend had been a near constant at the house, at least every time Elliot had stopped by to see the kids. He had assumed Carl was upstairs sleeping as they spoke.

"We broke up."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Kathy shook her head sadly. "I'm not, not really. He wasn't that great with the kids. Or around the house. I was spoiled with you El."

Elliot chuckled dryly. "How soon you forget Kathy. I was never here. Remember how often I would miss dinner, not be around when you needed me? Remember how much I worked? How you had to do almost everything around the house, and take care of the kids? I was no prize Kath. I'm still not. You're just lonely."

"Are you seeing anyone?"

The sudden change in topic knocked Elliot off balance momentarily, but he recovered quickly.

"Yeah. I am."

Kathy nodded slowly, her eyes filling with quiet tears. Embarrassed, she swiped at them. "I'm happy for you. But I still miss having you here."

Sighing loudly, Elliot ran a hand over his face for the millionth time that night. "We've been divorced for over six months now. This isn't new."

"I know. That doesn't make it any easier though El."

Smiling gently, Elliot drew his ex-wife into a hug. "I know. But we both know it's for the best."

When they pulled apart again, Kathy averted her eyes and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "Well, I guess if you're leaving, you'd better get going."

Glancing at his watch, Elliot barely stifled a groan. It was almost 5 a.m. By the time he got back into Manhattan, crawled into bed, and fell back asleep, it would be time to get up. Blowing out an extended breath, he tossed his winter jacket back over the banister. She won this time. "Okay Kath, you know what, I'll stay. I'll get up with the twins in the morning, drive them to classes and Eli to daycare. You sleep in. I know you could use the rest. I'll take the couch."

Kathy nodded, smiling at him gratefully as she backed away, slipping up the stairs before he could change his mind. Turning to the couch with a sigh, Elliot tossed off the extra pillows and grabbed the blanket that was slung over the back of the rocking chair. At least he could get a little more sleep this way. Walking back over to the banister, he felt around in his jacket pocket for his cell. He wanted to text Olivia, tell her he was going to crash on the couch for the night and that he would see her in a few hours at work. As his groping fingers came up empty, he remembered with a groan that he had tossed the phone into his bed, where it no doubt still resided, comfy and warm under the covers.

Oh boy was he going to be in the doghouse tomorrow.


	3. Angel

**Chapter 3 – Angel**

The pages of Seth's scrapbook were dog-eared, the corners stained dark with oil from the regular caress of fingers over many years.

Reverently removing the scrapbook from its place of honor on the top shelf of his birch bookcase, Seth inwardly cursed his younger, dumber self. So much of the damage to this precious tome could have been avoided. Now, he was smart enough to wear gloves.

He must not leave any marks.

The scrapbook MUST stay perfect.

Outside, the early morning sky was pitch black, the air heavy with cold but tranquil, the bitter wind having died down close to twenty minutes ago. The heat in Seth's small, shabby bachelor apartment was cranked up to the max as he sat down slowly on his mother's old fabric couch. The plastic couch cover creaked under his weight as he held the scrapbook delicately in his hands.

In the distance, sirens wailed. Underneath his eighth floor window, he could hear the screams of two unidentifiable animals, battling over food remnants in the dumpster below. Inside his apartment, everything was blissfully quiet. Beside the couch, his fish tank filter purred softly, reminding him that he hadn't filled it with water in some time. There had been fish in it at one point, but he assumed they were all dead - not that he could be certain through the green film of algae that coated the glass. Other than the fish tank, the only sounds were the soft hum of his small refrigerator and his own steady breathing.

He preferred it that way. Quiet was best.

Simple was good too. Seth liked to keep things simple. Simple was easier. The butter cream walls of his living space were completely devoid of decoration, save for an inspirational poster left behind by the previous tenant. The poster portrayed a small kitten hanging precariously off a branch, the saying "Hang In There, Kid!" emblazoned underneath. The furniture and fixtures spread throughout the living area were minimal and eclectic, purchased mostly at yard sales. The futon across the room pulled out and doubled as his bed; his side table was also his night stand. The only personal effect, aside from the small framed photograph of his mother that adorned the bottom shelf of his bookcase, was the scrapbook.

Some people might consider his apartment depressing, but Seth didn't mind. This wasn't his primary residence after all. He had only rented it because he needed to be closer to the city, to be closer to Elliot.

At least for awhile. At least until he had what he needed to be truly happy.

Taking a deep breath, Seth ran a latex-gloved hand lovingly over the brown paper cover of the scrapbook, relishing its familiar feel. Slowly, gingerly, he opened it up as he did every morning, feeling excitement and anticipation build in the pit of his stomach. He had looked at this scrapbook millions of times, but he never grew tired of it.

Inside, the pages were filled with newspaper clippings and photographs – all organized logically, affixed to the paper with care and all revolving around Elliot Stabler. The earlier articles formed a sharp contrast to the later articles, the newsprint yellowing and brittle compared to the newer articles' crisp white pallor. The photos - some black and white, others color – were snapped from a variety of different angles at a variety of distances. When he had been younger and more uncertain, the photos were all taken from a distance. In more recent years, as his skill and confidence increased and technology improved, they were mostly close-up shots.

The close-up ones were his personal favorites.

In the photos, Seth had been thorough in documenting every important player in Elliot's life since he had entered Seth's. Seth knew each player by name. Each former partner. Each co-worker. All of his friends. Every family member.

The earlier pages were dominated by pictures of Elliot with Kathy. After she left him, Seth had grudgingly allowed these photos to remain in the album, only because she was the mother of his perfect children. Still, he had gone through the scrapbook with a fine-tip black marker and methodically eradicated her face. She had hurt Elliot, and no longer deserved a place of honor in his book.

Surrounding pictures of Kathy and Elliot were pictures of their amazing children. Maureen. Kathleen. Elizabeth. Richard. Eli. At birthday parties, concerts, picnics, barbecues, and graduations. Flipping the pages, one could almost watch them grow through the pictures, especially the younger children. Especially perfect little Eli.

Starting in the last few pages, one player had become more and more prominent. She had been in the photos for years as his partner, but within the last few pages she had taken on a starring role. Elliot's perfect, precious Olivia. Reaching down, Seth gently traced her face with his finger. In the most recent picture, she was laughing and Elliot was looking at her like she was the only person who mattered in the world. He could see clear as day how much she meant to Elliot. Remembering Kathy's betrayal, Seth suddenly felt rage bubble in his veins. If Olivia hurt Elliot like Kathy did, she would suffer a worse fate than black marker over her face.

No one hurt Elliot Stabler.

Shaking his head to clear the anger blurring his vision, Seth returned his gaze to the scrapbook. Realizing he had reached the end of the book already, he closed and then slowly re-opened it. This was his ritual – the first pass through was just a quick glance at the photos. The second time through, he re-read the articles - articles he could almost recite from memory.

The first page of the scrapbook featured a head shot of Elliot, taken several years ago. His face was more lined now, his hair further receded and more gray, but the kindness visible in his eyes was a constant. The second page was filled with a clipping from the New York Times, dated almost 20 years ago. The newspaper was yellowed with age, but the headline "New York Cop Saves Family from Abusive Man" was clear.

As clear as Seth's memory of the day Elliot Stabler walked into his life and changed it forever.

It had been a particularly vicious beating that day. Seth's father had been drinking, which was not unusual. Neither was the uninhibited rage that contorted his features as he pinned Seth's mother into a corner and whaled on her relentlessly. Each time he drew back, his fist was coated with more and more blood and sweat flew off his forehead. Just a young boy at the time, Seth had tried to stop him. He had frantically grabbed at his father's arm and kicked at his leg, but he was no match for his father's size and strength. Seth's father had grabbed Seth by the shoulders and, cursing loudly, tossed him hard into the pantry.

To this day, Seth clearly recalled the loud crack and the tidal wave of pain as his collarbone snapped. He had slid to the floor, bawling in pain, and curled up into a ball, tears streaming down his face. He had felt helpless, angry, and impotent as his father redirected his wrath at his mother.

Seth didn't remember hearing sirens, so maybe there hadn't been any. The next sound he did clearly remember was that of wood fracturing just before he felt a whoosh of stale hallway air swoop into the apartment. Through the pain, he registered the sound of footfalls on the laminate flooring. When he glanced up, squinting through the agony, his tear-filled eyes came to rest on Elliot for the first time. To Seth's frightened mind, he was a gift from God. He looked like a gladiator – tall and strong, with the face of an avenging angel. Elliot had sprinted across the room, his navy blue uniform blending into the gloom of the apartment, and grabbed his father as if he weighed no more than a feather.

In what felt like a second, his father was pinned to the floor and handcuffs were snapped on. Without losing momentum, Elliot turned first to Seth's mother, checking her pulse and speaking to her soothingly. The next second, he was crouched beside Seth, his kind face only inches away.

He may have said more, but the only words Seth could remember Elliot whispering were "You're going to be okay". Although it wasn't the first time Seth had heard those words, it was the first time he had truly believed them. Immediately Seth relaxed and the pain in his collarbone lessened. Scooping Seth's small body up effortlessly in his arms, Elliot lifted him gently off the floor and carried him out to a waiting ambulance. A picture of Elliot, descending the front stoop of the gray apartment building with Seth cradled carefully in his arms, accompanied the article. Seth had looked up at Elliot at the exact moment the photographer had snapped the picture, and he remembered feeling an overwhelming sense of safety and of awe at the strength and compassion in that man's face.

Elliot had visited him in the hospital, brought him candy, read him a story as he healed. He had helped Seth prepare for trial and held his hand in the courtroom when his father's verdict was read. When the foreman pronounced his father guilty, Elliot had squeezed his hand and smiled down at him. In response, Seth had closed his eyes and imagined Elliot was his real father.

After that day in court though, he never saw Elliot again. Seth prayed, fruitlessly, every night for years, but he never re-appeared. Even when he and his mother moved away from the city and all its horrible memories, Seth never forgot the feelings of safety and security he felt with Elliot. His mother kept a picture of Elliot, clipped from the local paper, on the fridge as a reminder of their hero. Seth looked at it every day, used it as a constant reminder of the type of man he wanted to become.

When Seth was old enough to drive, he started making trips into the city in his beat-up old pickup, loitering near the precinct, craving the rush of excitement he felt whenever he saw Elliot in passing. Soon, random sightings a few times a week weren't enough. He was driven to see him every day. Seth even went out to buy a camera so he could have pictures to sustain him. And then he started doing research, casually started speaking to people who crossed Elliot's path, started gathering information, eating up each detail ravenously.

When his mother died six months ago, Seth had doubled his efforts to learn all he could about Elliot. He was, after all, the only family Seth had left.

But that was all about to change.

Soon, he would have a lot more family. And it would be perfect.

Just perfect.


	4. Boundaries

**Chapter 4 – Boundaries**

"What've we got?"

The day had dawned bright, beautiful, and cruel that morning. The sun shone brilliantly, reflecting blindingly off the snow's icy crust, but was too distant to give off any heat. It was still bitter cold in Manhattan as Elliot crunched across the snow-covered sidewalk, clutching a large coffee in each gloved hand. The hot liquid steamed in the freezing air and he was incredibly thankful for the warm lambskin coat he had grabbed from his locker at the precinct.

Rays of sunlight glinted off the metal roof of the abandoned warehouse looming before him, casting eerie shadows on the gruesome scene below. The area surrounding the building was a beehive of activity. A small colony of bundled-up crime scene techs bustled around with clipboards in hand, measuring here and sampling there. A tranquil figure amid the sea of movement, M.E. Melinda Warner sat crouched beside a body, the tips of her boots toeing a swatch of blood-drenched snow. She glanced up only briefly when she heard Elliot's voice.

"Good morning to you too. Thirty-seven-year-old female, raped, beaten, found hung from the overhang."

"Who cut her down?" Elliot lifted his sunglasses, eyes travelling up to the piece of rope that was swaying slightly a good fifteen feet above his head.

"Nobody. She fell down on her own shortly after I arrived. Cheap rope."

Elliot winced involuntarily, lowering his sunglasses again. Hell of a height to fall from. "At least she was dead before she fell," he muttered, shifting his weight and gazing back down at the corpse.

"No kidding." Melinda jotted a few more notes before standing up, stretching, and cracking her neck wearily.

"Time of death?"

"Hard to pinpoint until I get the body back to the lab. The cold last night will have slowed rigor somewhat. If I had to make a guess, between four and six hours ago."

"She hung pre- or post-mortem?"

"Post likely, but there are faint tire tracks that suggest heavy machinery came through here at some point. If the perp drove something with a hoist or lift, it's possible he could have lifted her up there easily even when she was alive and struggling. No footprints in the area. Blowing snow last night would have obliterated them. Still, there's a huge bloodstain inside the warehouse. She probably bled out in there."

"Thanks Melinda." Squinting his eyes in the bright light, Elliot glanced around the perimeter, feeling anxiety flutter in his stomach. "Olivia here yet?"

"Yeah. She's inside talking to the person who found the body. He's in pretty rough shape."

The inside of the warehouse was every bit as cold as outside, the winter air settling in through poorly boarded, cracked windows and a rotting roof. The cement floor was littered with crumbling, brittle leaves, twigs, glass, and assorted garbage. Old bird's nests hung between decaying wooden rafters and the air felt stale and heavy with cold. A different colony of CSU techs skittered around inside, gathering evidence and photographing the gooey, rust-red stain that formed a lake in the middle of the cold concrete floor.

Olivia stood near the far corner of the dilapidated building, talking to an older man clad in orange thermal coveralls. His gray hair stuck up in wild tufts and his face bore all the markers of shock. He twisted his brown felt cap mindlessly in his hands as he spoke to Olivia, his eyes repeatedly darting back and forth from Olivia's face to the ominous puddle on the floor.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Olivia turned her head slightly and caught sight of Elliot. An emotion closely resembling relief flooded her features, but it was quickly replaced by a guarded coolness. Sliding her notebook into her pocket, she touched the old man's arm, said something to him, and then turned toward Elliot, meeting him halfway across the floor. He could tell from the stiffness of her shoulders and the set of her mouth that she was in work mode. And pissed off.

Elliot opened his mouth to greet her, but she cut him off.

"You talk to Warner?"

"Hi." Elliot was careful to keep any smarminess out of his voice. It wasn't like he deserved a warm welcome after all. "Yeah, I did. I've got the basics. What else have you learned?" He held out one of the coffees as a peace offering.

She eyed the offered beverage for a moment before taking it reluctantly.

"Thanks." Olivia shot him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Immediately she wrapped both hands around the cup, and he noticed she wasn't wearing gloves. Her hands were fire engine red with cold.

"Where are your gloves? It's freezing out here. You'll get frostbite."

"Thanks Mom," Olivia snapped, her eyes spitting fire in his direction. "I forgot them. I had other things on my mind this morning."

Elliot opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it. Best let her get the snarky remarks out of her system. This wasn't the place to fight.

When he didn't bite, she continued.

"Looks like she was killed inside. Blood trail then leads outside. No ID. The chain lock was cut off the front door, and the door lock has also been tampered with. Techs are dusting for prints. The perp took everything he used with him. Murder weapon, leftover rope, and her panties, unless she wasn't wearing any when she got here. Caretaker found her around two hours ago. He works for a company contracted by the building's owner to maintain it.

Elliot surveyed the mess and decay surrounding them. "Well, aren't they just doing a bang-up job. Who does the warehouse belong to?"

"Caretaker wasn't sure. I put a call in. Munch is checking it out for me. I think we're done here. I'm heading back to the house." Avoiding his eyes, Olivia zipped up her coat as far as it would go and brushed past him. Elliot followed after her, sipping but not really tasting his coffee, unease settling in his stomach. He hated when she was upset with him.

For something to do, Elliot kept talking, hoping her coolness would dissipate with time.

"Any of the neighbors see any suspicious activity?"

"I've got some uniforms canvassing," Olivia tossed back over her shoulder, striding down the steps in front of the warehouse's battered front door. Outside, Melinda's staff were bagging the body as the M.E. kept a watchful eye. No one paid the two detectives any attention as they strode toward their department-issue sedans. Olivia was walking so quickly that Elliot nearly had to trot to keep up with her.

Eager to thaw the ice, he attempted humor next.

"Well, that was easy. I should show up late more often. You've got this all under control," Elliot joked, slipping slightly on a patch of ice that he didn't notice gleaming menacingly on the pathway.

"At least one of us has got it together," Olivia retorted, drawing the car keys out of her pocket. Her long brown winter jacket flapped in the breeze created by her loping stride. Although his sedan was parked further to the left, Elliot kept trailing after her and she kept ignoring him, shoving the keys roughly into the door lock and jerking the driver's side door open. Scanning the area to be sure no one was within ear shot, Elliot grabbed the door before she could open it all the way, his thick winter gloves absorbing some of the impact. His blue eyes bore into her face until she finally raised her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were full of annoyance and her bottom lip trembled just slightly.

God help him, he wanted to kiss her. He had it bad.

"Everything okay?" Elliot kept his voice low and his other senses alert. They had been successful so far in keeping their relationship under wraps, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn't relish the idea of one of them having to transfer. They were a good team, professionally and personally.

"Everything's fine." He could tell from the set of her jaw that it wasn't.

"I was just kidding. I'm sorry I'm late. I would have been here sooner, but I left my cell at home. I didn't find out about the case until I got to the precinct."

"Your lateness had nothing to do with the fact that the drive in from Queens is hectic at this time of the morning, huh?" Olivia was not being as careful with her tone as Elliot but at that moment she didn't care.

Glancing around, Elliot lowered his voice further and tightened his grip on the door frame. "Liv, I'm sorry about last night. I can explain."

"I don't want to know," Olivia blurted out, trying in vain to yank the door the rest of the way open. Horrible "what if's" had been racing through her mind all morning, and she was desperate to leave before he could turn one of those painful possibilities into reality. Maybe he had been in an accident. Maybe something really had been wrong with Eli, and they had had to take him to the hospital. Maybe he had slept with Kathy . . .

Every one of those thoughts broke her heart.

"Liv, it's not what you're thinking . . ." Elliot wanted to pull her into his arms, to soothe her, but that would be neither appropriate nor welcome at this point.

"Elliot, you know nothing about what I'm thinking. Let go of the door so I can leave."

Elliot ignored her and barreled on, desperate to get his explanation out before she left. Guilt had been percolating in his gut all morning and he longed selfishly to purge it. "By the time I got Eli calmed down, it was late. Well, super early actually. . . . so I decided I would just crash on Kathy's couch and see the kids in the morning. I thought maybe I could get a bit more sleep that way too. I was going to text you, but I left my cell at home. I didn't want to call and wake you. I know you haven't been sleeping well."

"Like I slept real well when you didn't come home." The anger in her voice was fading now, replaced with bitter resignation. Olivia raised her eyes to meet his again, flicking them over his face, searching for any indication he was lying. When she didn't see any, she sighed. "Dammit El. I was worried about you."

Sensing she was close to breaking, Elliot rushed on. "I know. I'm sorry. I just . . . thought it was the right thing to do. Kathy looked exhausted. She just broke up with her boyfriend, and things have been tough for her lately with Eli. I thought maybe if I got up with the kids, she could get some extra sleep and maybe feel a bit better and less overwhelmed. Then she would stop needing to call me every damn second."

Relieved to have completed his confession, Elliot dropped his hand from the door and Olivia plopped down into the driver's seat of the sedan with a sigh. She slid the key into the ignition, but didn't start the car. Elliot closed the distance between them as much as he dared given the setting, sensing the worst of the storm had passed.

"I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry. I know I haven't exactly been fair to you these last few weeks. I just feel really . . . trapped." Sighing, Elliot rubbed his eyes. "I've got Kathy on one side, pressuring me to "be a good father". And then I feel guilty because in doing so I know I am not being a good boyfriend. I feel like I can't win. I'm always letting someone down."

When Olivia looked at him now, her gaze was softer and the fight had left her eyes. Some of the discomfort in Elliot's stomach dispersed. Maybe they would get through this after all.

"Your kids come first. I know and respect that. You're a good father El."

"Right now I don't think Eli would agree with you." Olivia could see how much it pained him to vocalize that thought, and she instantly felt bad for him.

"Well you are. I'm not mad. More than anything, I'm frustrated with Kathy. She's taking advantage of you." Olivia dropped her eyes and toyed with the keychain that dangled down from the ignition. "And yeah, maybe I am feeling a bit possessive. Even a tiny bit threatened." It was a struggle for her to express that vulnerability but, once it was out in the open, she felt better.

Elliot, on the other hand, felt like a total heel. He longed to take her into the backseat of the sedan and make her feel so good that all her insecurities would melt away.

"You don't need to be threatened Liv. There's no one but you." His whispered voice was smooth as silk. "Don't make me kiss you right here to prove it."

Olivia laughed despite herself and turned the key in the ignition. The engine whimpered a few times in the cold, but eventually roared to life. "Not necessary. I think we are already pushing the boundaries of professionalism just by having this conversation right now. We'd better get back to the station. We can talk about this later." Despite her abrupt ending of the conversation, Elliot could tell from the softness of her face and voice that he was forgiven this time.

"At least let me try to make it up to you. Let me make you dinner tonight whenever we get off."

Olivia was ready to decline, having decided earlier that maybe they needed a bit of space right now, but the look on his face was so puppy-dog earnest that she couldn't say no.

Raising an eyebrow, Olivia shot Elliot a half smile. "Are you actually going to make it yourself, or are you going to order in and take all the credit?"

"That all depends on which option will lead to you agreeing."

This time, her grin was full-on and made his heart thump. "Dinner would be nice. I'll see you back at the house."

As Elliot strode back to his sedan, feeling a thousand times lighter, he failed to notice the black SUV that sat thirty feet from where he had parked, keeping a silent vigil.

Its driver just watching.


	5. Proud

**Chapter 5 – Proud**

He was almost ready.

Almost, but not quite.

It was imperative that he take his time. Rushing would be ill-advised. Everything must be perfect.

Straightening slowly, his aching back protesting even the slightest movement, Seth wiped his dirty hands on his jeans before inspecting his handiwork with a critical eye.

Good. Very good.

A quick glance at his digital watch informed him he had been working in the dim light of the cellar for almost seven hours straight without so much as a five minute break. His cramping muscles were not about to let him forget it either. Upstairs, the sun had probably already eased back below the horizon, painting his property with an inky coat of darkness. Except for his brief foray into the city to see Elliot, Seth hadn't left the house all day. It had been worth it though. He had accomplished a lot.

He was right on schedule. Mother would be proud.

For the first time in as long as Seth could remember, the cellar of his country property was almost completely empty. It had taken him over three hours to remove all of the junk stored down there - old bicycles, boxes of magazines and newspapers, gardening equipment, jars of preserves, and dusty, rusty tools. It had been a pain, but a necessary evil. The king-size mattress he had just lugged down the creaky wooden stairs and laid on the cold concrete floor was now the sole artifact in the room. Shoved into a corner and bordered on two sides by gray cinderblock, it seemed to float like a ghost in the murky gloom of the cellar.

He liked it. Empty was simpler.

Despite the thin, cold air surrounding him, sweat dripped down Seth's spine as he gave the room a final once over. His only real complaint was that the room was so sparse. He didn't much care himself, but his visitors would. He would have liked to decorate it, at least a little, to make it cozy for them. But it couldn't be TOO comfortable. That wouldn't do either. If it were too cozy, they might want to stay down in the cellar. And he couldn't have that. He wanted them to want to move upstairs.

With him.

Seth assuaged his guilt by reminding himself that what the room lacked in creature comforts, it more than made up for in cleanliness. The floor was spotless – he had spent hours on his hands and knees scrubbing it. If cement could sparkle, it would be gleaming. They could eat off it if they wanted to. Even the mortar separating the cinderblocks in the wall had been carefully sanitized. He would feel horrible if one of his visitors were to fall ill.

Satisfied with the day's efforts, Seth reached up to extinguish the lone light in the underground cavern, a bare bulb that dangled from a fixture in the ceiling. With one snap of the short cord, the bulb blinked out, enveloping him in near impenetrable darkness. He wouldn't have been able to find his way out if it weren't for the small patch of milky light that cascaded down from the top of the steps through the cellar door. It was time to eat and flip through his scrapbook. As he exited the dark tomb, Seth carefully moved the box that served as his doorstop to the side. The heavy metal door immediately swung closed behind him with a reverberating thud, the bolt clicking firmly into place. He left the three outside kick bolts open – there was no need for them just yet.

With a contented sigh, Seth climbed the rickety steps, squinting as the artificial light from upstairs grew brighter.

He was almost ready.

As expected, when he reached the top of the stairs, Seth discovered the sun had indeed relinquished its hold on the sky, bowing out gracefully in the presence of a full moon. Halting in front of the big picture window, Seth smiled at the sight of moonbeams reflecting off miles of white snow. So beautiful. Before him, there was nothing but open fields. No ridiculously high buildings to ruin the view. No neighbors to bother him. Behind the cabin sat a serene forest, where the green boughs of the coniferous trees rested under the weight of a layer of crisp white snow. The fluffy precipitation on the ground muffled all sound, making it so quiet one could hear the tiniest pin drop in the cabin. It was a great place to clear your head and focus on what was really important.

His family would love it here. He knew they would.

Humming softly to himself, Seth stepped into the kitchen and flicked the dials on the oven. His mouth watered at the thought of the delicious smoked salmon he had bought earlier at Elliot's grocery store. As the oven slowly preheated, he grabbed his cutlery and set up a small TV table in the living room before flicking on the news. He held his breath, hoping for coverage of Elliot's new case, but the newscaster was droning on and on about some boring charity event. Tuning the reporter out, Seth plopped his weary body down on the wood frame couch and absorbed his surroundings absently.

There was no doubt that the cabin was far more welcoming than his dumpy Manhattan apartment. His mother, an interior decorator by trade, had taken great pride in it. All of the furniture pieces complimented each other and blended well with the colors adorning the walls. There were actual pictures hung here – breathtaking oil landscapes and striking animal photographs. The side tables and Curio cabinet housed an assortment of artifacts, each with a special meaning. His mother had a story to go with each one, stories he had heard thousands of times but never tired of. Stories that he would soon share with his own children.

It was quiet here now that Mother was gone. Too quiet.

But not for much longer.

Although she would never say it aloud, Seth knew deep down his mother was disappointed in him. He had never amounted to much in school and didn't have an athletic bone in his body. When he was young, he spent almost every waking moment lost in a fantasy world. As he got older, he struggled to hold on to a job and rarely had a steady income. He didn't have any real friends to speak of and never had a girlfriend to bring home for dinner. He knew his mother longed for grandchildren to spoil, for a family beyond the two of them.

In short, Mother wished he were more like Elliot Stabler. And he would be.

Soon.

On her deathbed, Seth had promised her that he would be okay, that he would take care of her precious cabin, that he would use the money she left him wisely. And so far he had. Soon, he would give her so much more. He would give her the family she always wished she had.

And then she would look down on him from Heaven proudly for the first time.

Mother would not have wanted him to be lonely. And he wouldn't be.

Not for much longer.


	6. Demons

**Chapter 6 – Demons**

"Wow. Thai food _and_ cupcakes. I'm spoiled."

As the evening news neared its conclusion, a delicate snow began to fall outside the double-paned balcony window, coating the black iron railing with a light dusting of crystalline powder. Rolling her shoulders tiredly, Olivia plopped down onto Elliot's soft black leather couch and snagged a cupcake off the silver platter that sat in the center of the dark mahogany coffee table. As the news anchor wished the city's residents a safe and restful evening, Olivia drew her legs up onto the couch, tucking them underneath her and sighing contently. She was full of delicious food, the dishes were done, and she had all evening to curl up on the couch and watch a movie with the man she loved.

Life was good. At least for the moment.

"What can I say? Nothing but the best for you Livvy."

Grinning amiably, Elliot emerged from his small kitchen, dressed casually in a pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless t-shirt and drying his hands on a dishtowel. Tossing the damp checkered towel carelessly over the high back of his matching leather armchair, he sunk down beside Olivia, throwing an arm lazily across the back of the couch behind her. Breathing deeply, he rested his head against the soft cushions and watched her fiddle with the cupcake wrapper. Feeling his warm gaze, Olivia shifted slightly and moved closer, pressing her shoulder lightly against his strong chest and resting her knees on his thighs. Closing his eyes happily, Elliot let his fingers trace abstract patterns on the back of her neck.

"Tired?" Olivia asked sympathetically, leaning back and savoring the gentle caress of his fingers. Even with their new level of intimacy, she enjoyed the small, almost insignificant gestures the most.

Opening his eyes to meet hers, Elliot smiled lightly. In truth, he was completely exhausted. He could have quite merrily gone to bed right then, but, after the morning's events, he knew he owed her some quality time. Sleep would have to wait.

"No, I'm okay. Just relaxed." Reaching out, he gently brushed a strand of dark hair away from her face. She looked so beautiful, curled up beside him in a NYPD sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants. "I wish my super would hurry up and get here. I'm dying for a shower. I can't believe it's taken him this long to get around to fixing a shower head. I should have just done it myself. He said he would stop in tonight for sure. We'll see."

"Good. You do kinda stink." Olivia smirked as he shot her a withering glance. Winking once, she turned her attention back to her cupcake, her agile fingers finally liberating it from its wrapper. As she focused her attention on the treat, Elliot focused his attention on her, moving his mouth to the sensitive spot just below her ear and kissing there softly. As she licked errant green icing off her fingers, he slowly nibbled down the cords of her neck, feathering his lips lightly until she shivered.

"Well, I know you didn't make the Thai food. How about the cupcakes?" Olivia murmured quietly, closing her eyes involuntarily as his mouth moved down to her collarbone, biting softly before soothing the sting with his tongue. Stiffening slightly, she reminded herself to be strong. She needed to put at least a little emotional distance between them to remind him of what he was taking for granted. Having incredible sex on his couch, although extremely desirable, would not be conducive to that. Still, it was so hard to focus when he did that thing with his fingers . . .

"Nope, can't claim credit for the cupcakes either." Elliot's words were muffled against her skin, his breath hot on her neck. "Lizzie made them for a friend's birthday party. I'm just a fortunate recipient of the leftovers." Leaning closer, his mouth grazed the hollow of her throat, his hand tightening on her thigh.

"El, stop." With a gargantuan effort, Olivia finally managed to pull away from his ministrations, shifting over on the couch but still allowing their legs to touch. As much as she wanted to, she refused to act like nothing had happened. She deserved better than that.

Elliot groaned inwardly when she shifted out of his reach but didn't press the issue. He was suddenly awake - or at least parts of him were. But if she was going to play hard to get, that was nothing less than he deserved. Leaning back into the couch cushions again, he let his eyes wander back to the TV, dropping his hand to her knee and resting it there softly. No pressure. If she wanted space, he would give it to her.

Olivia's eyes meanwhile had wandered back to the cupcake. Returning the removed wrapper to the platter, Olivia twisted the cupcake around, assessing it from all angles like a food critic. The icing was fluffy and the vanilla cake underneath was flecked with red. Cherry chip. Her favorite. "Mmmm, this looks delicious! Are they as good as they look?"

Dragging his eyes from the amusing Chase commercial on the wide screen in front of him, Elliot watched Olivia dip a finger into the green icing and raise it to her lips. Noticing she suddenly had his full attention again, she eased the slender finger into her mouth and sucked on it softly, simultaneously enjoying the rich icing and giving him a damn good show. This time, Elliot groaned outwardly as he watched her now wet finger with rapt attention. She was going to torture him.

"I don't know. I haven't tried one yet." His voice came out raspy. Clearing his throat, Elliot tried to focus on something other than how uncomfortably restrictive his pants were all of a sudden.

"Of course not." Olivia's deep eyes glinted with mischief. "You wouldn't want to fill that Atlas body of yours with anything unhealthy."

"Hey, are you complaining?" Elliot held up an arm, jokingly flexing his bicep and enjoying the hearty laugh it earned.

Olivia shook her head, smiling widely. "No, not complaining. I just think you need to live a little sometimes." When Elliot started to defend himself, she stuffed the entire cupcake unceremoniously into his mouth and dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. Caught completely off guard, Elliot sputtered, clumps of cake and icing falling into his lap. His moment of disorientation gave Olivia the chance to grab a second cupcake, its fate matching that of its predecessor. Despite his shock, Elliot couldn't help but grin through the mess at Olivia's peals of laughter – a sound he didn't hear nearly enough.

"That's it. You are in such trouble." His words were muffled around the cupcake, but his intentions were clear from the impish glint in his eyes. Elliot grabbed for her but Olivia was too quick, darting off the couch and out of arm's reach. Not to be outdone, Elliot displayed his own excellent reflexes, bounding off the couch and snagging her arm, just as she tried to evade him around the back of the couch. Olivia yelped in mock alarm as he yanked her into his embrace and kissed her hard, making a concerted effort to smear the demolished cupcakes from his face to her face. Laughing too hard to mount a decent offensive, all Olivia could do was twist and turn, trying in vain to squirm out of his grasp.

They were so busy goofing around that Olivia almost didn't hear the knock on the door.

"El . ." Olivia gasped, stomach cramping with laughter. He ignored her, smearing some icing into her hair when she stopped squirming. Finally managing to extricate herself from his embrace, she bent at the waist to catch her breath and pointed toward the front foyer. "The door."

"The super. It's about damn time." Wiping the worst of the sticky mess off his face, Elliot trotted over to the door and yanked it open. "Finally Rob!"

But it was Kathy who stood wide-eyed on the threshold.

"El?" Kathy's brows furrowed questioningly as she took in his disheveled appearance. He still had green icing clinging to the day-old stubble on his chin and clumps of cupcake stuck resiliently to his blue Columbia t-shirt.

"Kathy. Uh, what are you doing here?" Elliot stammered, straightening up and self-consciously wiping his hands on his pants.

"I brought you some food. Chili, your favorite." Kathy held up a fragrant plastic bag sheepishly. "And I wanted to chat with you about this weekend."

Still in shock, Elliot's mind churned frantically. The last thing he wanted to do was invite her in, but forcing her to remain in the hall was sure to spur her curiosity. And determination to get inside. As it was, she was trying to peek around him to see inside the apartment. "Can I come in, or is this a bad time?"

"Uh, it's kind of a bad time."

"It won't take long. I promise. We can talk quickly and then I'll leave you alone."

Knowing she would be near impossible to get rid of now she was curious, Elliot sighed and opened the door further.

"Okay, come in."

Smiling at him, Kathy strolled into the apartment, halting abruptly in her tracks when she caught sight of his guest.

"Olivia?" Kathy didn't even attempt to cover her surprise.

"Hi Kathy. How are you?" As soon as Olivia heard Elliot say Kathy's name, she had quickly worked to rid her face of the evidence of their tussle. Without benefit of a mirror however, she had missed a smear of icing that ran from her ear down to her chin.

Kathy didn't miss it, but didn't say anything either.

"I'm good thanks." Kathy's voice was cool as the two women stood awkwardly facing each other.

Olivia tried again for civility.

"You look nice," Olivia commented, nodding to the soft purple wool sweater dress and dark tights that peeked out from beneath Kathy's winter coat.

"You look . . . very . . . . comfortable," Kathy muttered, her lips set in a firm line. Olivia opened her mouth to respond, to justify her presence here, but decided against it, flushing nervously. Elliot just stood rooted to the spot, his eyes travelling back and forth between the two main women in his life.

"Well, uh, I should . . . uh . . . get going I guess," Olivia stuttered, looking around desperately for her coat. Elliot found it first and handed it over, stuffing his hands in his pockets and smiling at her nervously. Olivia shrugged into her jacket quickly and pulled on her hat, glancing up at Elliot for the first time since Kathy had walked through the door. "I'll see you tomorrow at work." She smiled softly one last time before dropping her eyes and escaping quickly from the apartment.

Closing the door gently, Elliot sucked in a deep breath and slowly turned to face Kathy and the barrage of questions he knew was coming. How he answered them was crucial, as Kathy knew better than almost everyone that intimate relationships between partners were strictly forbidden. Elliot had no doubt in his mind that she would have no qualms about notifying their superiors if she found out Olivia had been sharing his bed.

The barrage of questions didn't come.

"I guess you've already eaten," Kathy remarked casually as she disappeared into the kitchen and slid the warm bag of food into the fridge. "Oh well. The chili will be just as good reheated tomorrow."

"Uh yeah, thanks." Elliot trailed after her, his heart thumping almost painfully in his chest. He wasn't a good liar when it came to his personal life, and he knew it. "Olivia and I were stuck doing a bit of work on a case, so we thought we would order-in."

"Working on a case," Kathy repeated, nodding slowly. Avoiding his eyes, she pushed past Elliot, leaving the small kitchen and entering the living area, where the main character of the sitcom on TV was bemoaning her lack of money. Elliot could see Kathy scanning the room, her alert eyes taking in the plate of cupcakes and, to Elliot's chagrin, the empty wine bottle that stood on a corner of the table.

To his intense relief, Kathy chose not to comment on their choice of beverage. Instead, she turned to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. "Must be a pretty amusing case. I heard a lot of laughter when I was in the hall."

"Uh no, it's a serious case. Just, you know, gallows humor." Feeling a nervous sweat prick at his brow, Elliot rubbed his hand over his chin, unintentionally removing the last of the icing.

"I see." Kathy looked at him thoughtfully but elected not to pursue the issue. "Well, I won't stay long. I just wanted to make sure you remembered about this weekend."

Wracking his brain, Elliot drew a blank. "This weekend?" He and Olivia had matinee theatre tickets for Sunday, an outing he had been promising her for months now, but Kathy couldn't possibly know about that.

"Yes, this weekend. Remember? It's your weekend to take the kids."

Irritated, Elliot dropped his hands to his hips. "I had the kids last weekend."

"Yes I realize that," Kathy drawled patronizingly, "but remember a month or so ago, when you got caught up in a really big case and asked me to switch weekends? You promised me I could pick any weekend I wanted, and I picked this weekend. You were distracted, I told you to write it down. God El, you really are losing your memory in your old age, aren't you?" Her tone was joking, but had a sharp edge to it.

Lowering himself onto the arm of the couch, Elliot groaned. Damn it, he had said that. And he had forgotten.

"Kathy, any weekend but this weekend, please."

"Why?"

"I . . . already have plans."

Knowing she had the upper hand, Kathy broadened her stance and set her jaw. "Well, so do I. I'm going out of state with a few girlfriends to do some shopping. Looks like you are going to have to cancel Elliot. It's your turn to spend time with the kids. Maureen and Kathleen are coming down for a visit this weekend too. They were excited to hear it's your weekend. You will get to see all your kids at once. When's the last time you actually saw Maureen and Kathleen El? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Elliot opened his mouth to counter her accusations, but couldn't. It had been a while. He talked to his eldest children on the phone regularly, but he hadn't seen them in a while.

Knowing she had him painted into a corner, Kathy felt a thrill run through her. Suddenly feeling powerful, she dug the knife in deeper.

"El, look. You know I would win in a custody battle. You work too much, your hours are unpredictable, and your job is dangerous. If you aren't going to take the kids when you are supposed to, I may as well have sole custody." The thought made Elliot feel light-headed and nauseous. He gripped the couch to steady himself as she continued. "Don't delude yourself for a second thinking I won't file for it." Kathy's voice was ice cold as she strode toward the door, keys clutched tightly in her white-knuckled fist. "Either you include the kids in your "plans" or you cancel and invite whomever you had plans with to spend time with you AND the kids. Have they even met your new significant other yet?"

"No." Elliot's voice was low and defeated as he looked at her with anger, frustration, and resentment creasing his face.

"Then it will be a good exercise for you all." Kathy opened the door with a jerk, struggling to suppress the self-satisfied smirk that flirted with the corners of her mouth. Shooting a look back over her shoulder, she felt triumphant. "Friday night Elliot. Be there to pick up Eli and the twins. I'll stop by to get them on Sunday after dinner when I get back into town."

Tossing her hair over her shoulder with finality, Kathy strode into the hallway, closing the heavy wooden door firmly behind her.

Leaving Elliot alone with his demons.


	7. Stranger

**Chapter 7 – Stranger**

Something was not right.

Not right at all.

In the dull gray morning light, Seth's leg jiggled nervously, rustling the keys that hung down from the SUV's ignition and filling the car's interior with a melodic jingling. On the fabric-covered passenger seat beside him, a half-eaten multigrain bagel slathered with lox lay face down on a brown paper bag, suddenly forgotten and forlorn. As the SUV idled lazily by the curb, environmentally-conscious passersby glared angrily at the tinted windows, but Seth studiously ignored them. Even with the heat blasting, the lenses of his binoculars were chilly as he pressed them against his eyes.

At the moment he had more pressing concerns than global warming.

Fifty yards down the street, Elliot had just left his apartment building. Alone.

Environment be damned_. That_ was truly worrisome.

Although Olivia kept an apartment in Manhattan, she spent most nights at Elliot's. Nearly every morning for the last three months they had exited his apartment together, sometimes engrossed in serious conversation, other times holding hands and walking in silence.

But not today. Today, Elliot was alone.

And he did not look happy.

Blinking his eyes against the lenses, Seth absorbed Elliot's every move, watching intently as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his puffy winter jacket and struck out in the direction of the precinct, ears red with cold and eyes downcast. Even from a distance, Seth could tell Elliot was tired. His eyes were underscored by dark circles and his face was swollen, as if he had just stumbled out of bed. Even his normally well-pressed dress pants were crinkled.

In short, Elliot looked like he had had a long, rough night.

And Olivia was nowhere to be seen. But she should have been.

Elliot obviously needed her.

Lowering the binoculars into his lap, Seth clenched the steering wheel with one hand, white hot anger amplifying his grip as he reviewed the possibilities. It could mean nothing. Or it could mean something. Something bad.

If she had hurt him . . . .

Tossing his binoculars carelessly on the seat beside him and knocking his bagel to the floor, Seth threw the SUV violently into drive. When he stomped ruthlessly on the accelerator, the SUV shot out into traffic, cutting off an oncoming cab. The cabbie squealed his brakes and blared his horn but Seth ignored him, slamming on his own brakes and jerking the wheel to the left to avoid a slow moving Impala.

Zigzagging expertly through traffic for two blocks, Seth only slowed when he passed Elliot, still walking blindly down the sidewalk. Eager to avoid drawing attention to himself, he observed Elliot only for a moment before accelerating again and fading back into traffic. Glancing in his rearview mirror, Seth was relieved to see Elliot's eyes were still cast down. If he had noticed the SUV, he hadn't thought anything of it.

Pulling up to the next red light, Seth slammed his palm against the hard plastic of the steering wheel and cursed violently. He shouldn't have spent so much time the previous day working in the cellar. If he had been watching closer, he might have a better idea of what had happened. Of why Olivia hadn't spent the night.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He needed to remain focused. Now was not the time to become complacent. Not when the day was so close.

Parking was typically challenging near Olivia's apartment building, but fate was smiling on him. As a Ford Focus zipped out of a spot one block down and across the street, Seth eased the SUV in, popping it into park before taking a deep breath to calm his shaking hands. He HATED when things didn't go as planned. If Elliot's precious Olivia kept screwing with said plan, her fate would be far less pleasant than he had hoped.

Seth was marginally calmer by the time Olivia emerged from her apartment ten minutes later. This time, he was close enough that binoculars were redundant. Despite his current irritation with her, he felt his heart start to thump and his body tingle as he watched her descend the steps of her building. She was undeniably gorgeous. Her dark hair was tied back into a high ponytail that swayed playfully as she slipped a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. Reaching the bottom of the stone stairs, she paused for a moment, tightening the blue scarf around her neck as a defense against the early morning cold. Breathing heavily, Seth wondered idly what type of noise she would make if he were to pull that scarf even tighter. Would it be a whimper of pleasure? Or a gasp of delight?

Seth was jolted out of his fantasies when Olivia suddenly took an unexpected turn to the left, heading in the opposite direction of the subway station and the precinct. Frowning, Seth twisted in his seat, craning his neck to watch her trudge down the sidewalk, her shoulders hunched against the cold.

Where the hell was she going?

Was she off to meet Elliot somewhere? Or was she on her way to meet someone else?

Either way, he had to know.

Swiftly unbuckling his seatbelt, Seth hastily silenced the SUV's engine and bolted out the door, locking it behind him with a click of the remote. Rounding the rear of the vehicle, he experienced a moment of panic when he couldn't immediately see her. Frantically, his eyes scanned the crowds and he heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted her, perhaps twenty feet in front of him, weaving in and out between other pedestrians. Careful to remain on the opposite side of the street and well back, Seth followed her, shivering in the morning cold.

Four blocks later, Olivia reached her destination. Stopping directly across the street, Seth feigned interest in the magazines populating the stand in front of him as he watched Olivia hold open the door of CVS Pharmacy for an elderly couple before disappearing inside the glass doors herself. While the stand's owner eyed him with mild curiosity, Seth grabbed a publication and pretended to read it, internally debating his next move. He could wait patiently until she re-emerged, or he could go in and observe her at close range. The second option was fraught with risk, but his stomach tightened with excitement at the thought of being close to her. Before he had the chance to make a conscious decision, his feet had carried him across the street, dodging cars and hopping over a slippery storm drain.

The tinkle of a bell signaled his arrival in the pharmacy. Wiping his feet carefully on the mat, Seth tried to still his trembling legs. In the early morning hour, the pharmacy was relatively quiet, the murmur of quiet conversation blending with the canned music that floated over the store's speaker system. Taking a deep breath, Seth gave the store a cursory once over, but his quarry was nowhere in sight. Trying to look casual, he meandered down the first few aisles, selecting random products and pretending to read the back of the packaging before returning them to the shelf with a shake of his head.

In the fourth aisle, he found her.

She was standing at the opposite end of the aisle from him, her scarf still around her neck but her jacket now unzipped and open in deference to the heat radiating inside the pharmacy. She held something delicately in her hand but he was too far away to identify it. Quickly, Seth turned to face the shelf before him, his heart pounding excitedly. Never before had he been this close to her alone.

It was a hell of an adrenaline rush. One he could definitely get used to.

Marshalling all the bravery he possessed, Seth slowly started walking down the aisle toward her, his eyes trained on the colorful rows of bottles, boxes, and jars. To an outside observer, he appeared to be just another customer, examining his options. Out of the corner of his eye however, the only thing he was examining was Olivia.

She didn't look up as he drew closer, her attention directed at the item in her hands. Frowning slightly, she squinted at the small text on the box. When he was maybe three feet away, just far enough to maintain her personal space, he stopped. Rotating his head slightly, Seth pretended to look at the items on the shelf in front of him, but in reality his eyes were on her face. She was strikingly beautiful, exotic even. He thought with satisfaction that Elliot's attraction to her was completely comprehensible.

Mother would be proud of his choice.

Seth allowed his eyes to discreetly drift over her face, taking in her dark eyes, curved nose, full lips, and soft skin before travelling down her body to linger admiringly on all of her curves. His gaze had travelled down her arms to her hands, memorizing her slender fingers and noting with interest the product in her hand, when Olivia finally glanced up at him. Quickly he averted his eyes and tried to quiet his harsh breathing.

Glancing at the shelf in front of the man beside her, Olivia smirked slightly before returning her eyes to his face, this time studying him more thoughtfully and intentionally.

"Your girlfriend or wife is very lucky."

Seth was so shocked that she had spoken to him that his legs nearly gave out. Startled, he glanced around them. They were alone in the aisle, leaving no doubt she was talking to him. All coherent thought immediately vanished from his mind and his mouth went completely dry.

"Uhhhh . . ." was the best response he could muster.

Olivia had dropped her eyes back down to the box in her hands, turning it over and over, but she kept going.

"I can't imagine my boyfriend buying me tampons, even if I begged." She chuckled slightly at the thought as Seth turned horrified eyes to the shelf in front of him. Sure enough, for the last few minutes he had been staring blindly at shelves of feminine hygiene products. Face flushing bright red, he began to stammer nonsensically.

"Uh, well, uh, uh, I . . . ."

Olivia couldn't help but laugh at his embarrassment. It was cute how flustered he was. His face was beet red and she couldn't help but feel a little guilty for putting him on the spot.

"Seriously, it's really sweet of you," she continued, smiling at him gently. In response, his heart did somersaults in his chest and his lungs screamed for breath. Mentally begging his body not to give out on him now, Seth managed a shaky smile. He had never before had anyone this beautiful strike up a conversation with him, ever.

After swallowing hard several times he attempted again to formulate sentences.

"I . . uh . . . can't imagine your . . . uh . . . boyfriend . . . . not wanting to do anything . . uh . . . you asked of him." He spoke softly, his voice barely a whisper. His hands were trembling so hard he had to clench them into fists to hide it. "You're beautiful."

His efforts were rewarded with a genuinely warm smile. Unthinking, Olivia reached out and touched his arm lightly. Seth jumped visibly at the contact and she quickly retracted her fingers, feeling bad for startling him several times in as many minutes.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you." Returning her gaze to the product in her hands, Olivia tried to remember the last time Elliot had told her she was beautiful. She couldn't.

Sometimes it took a total stranger to brighten your day.

Sensing their brief interaction was quickly coming to a close, Seth cleared his throat and elected to take his leave before he said something he would regret. Grinning broadly at her although she wasn't looking at him, he bowed his head slightly. "It was my pleasure. Have a nice day."

As Seth moved to pass behind her, he intentionally let his hand brush lightly against the back of her jacket, his skin tingling at the contact. When she turned her head to shoot him a friendly smile, the movement of her ponytail sent a whiff of fragrant shampoo in his direction. He inhaled deeply as he headed for the exit, savoring it.

Strawberries. She smelled amazing.

He wondered fleetingly if she would taste as sweet.

Strolling out of the pharmacy, his gait jaunty and excited energy radiating from his muscles, Seth took great pleasure in knowing that he would find out the answer to that question soon.

Very soon.

And it would be perfect.


	8. Selfish

A/N – Thank you to everyone who has reviewed "Perfect" so far. I really appreciate your feedback. You keep me writing!!

**Chapter 8 – Selfish**

It had been a long night. Long and lonely.

And unfortunately he didn't anticipate the coming day being any better.

The precinct was already a hub of activity when Elliot lumbered in shortly after 9 a.m., brushing a light dusting of snow from his short hair. Some detectives scurried about the SVU squad room, hands teeming with files, darting fluidly between chairs while others sat hunched at desks, ears glued to phones and eyes trained on computer screens. Some looked refreshed, chatting animatedly with their colleagues while others looked haggard, ingesting cup after cup of caffeine in the hopes of cramming in at least a few more hours of work.

Rapists and murderers never slept after all.

Greeting Munch and Fin with a wave, Elliot shoved his gloves into his locker before sauntering over to his desk and lowering himself into his chair with a grunt. Another day, another dollar. Before him, Olivia's desk chair sat empty. As his computer whirred efficiently to life, Elliot glanced surreptitiously at his cell phone.

No calls, no messages.

Frowning slightly, Elliot sifted through the poorly organized mound of paper on his desk. With a bit of effort, he managed to locate the desired form and settled in to update his report on the warehouse rape-homicide. Several minutes later however, he was still reading the same sentence, his heart just not in it. A huge part of him was concerned about Olivia's whereabouts – she hadn't mentioned last night that she planned to come in later today. Not that she had had much of a chance, he thought wryly. But he was ashamed to admit that another part of him was relieved she wasn't there. He was not relishing the idea of having to tell her he needed to bail on their plans for this weekend. Her absence was, he knew, just delaying the inevitable, but sometimes a bit of a delay was not necessarily a bad thing.

After the events of the last few days, his news was not going to be well-received. Not by any stretch.

"Stabler." Captain Cragen's voice jerked Elliot back to attention. Glancing up, he spied the captain standing in the doorway of his windowed work space, a grim look on his face. "My office please."

"Where's your partner?" Cragen asked in lieu of a greeting as Elliot entered his office, closing the glass door behind him. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Elliot turned to face his superior and tried to keep his expression neutral.

"She's on her way in Cap'n." Elliot comforted his conscience by reminding himself that wasn't technically a lie. He didn't know for sure she was, but it was highly likely.

"She tell you she was going to be late this morning?" Cragen leaned a hip against his large desk, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Elliot frowned, pondering his words carefully. It wasn't like the captain to micromanage their time. Something must be up. In deference to Cragen's uncharacteristically foul mood, Elliot covered for his partner, knowing if he didn't she would get a hell of an earful when she got in.

"Yeah. She wanted to stop and talk to a witness before she came in."

Apparently satisfied with that answer, Cragen walked around behind his desk and dropped down into his chair, folding his hands demurely onto his blotter. "Where are we on the warehouse rape-homicide?"

Elliot exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face in thought. "We don't have a lot to go on just yet. ID on the vic came in late yesterday afternoon. Emily Jessica MacNamore. Single, thirty-eight years old, works as a payroll clerk for an accounting firm in Brooklyn. No priors. Her boyfriend said she had planned to go out for a drink last night after work. He expected her home in the early evening. When she didn't show, he assumed she had gone out somewhere else with friends and he went off to work."

Out of the corner of his eye, Elliot caught a glimpse of Olivia strolling into the precinct, head down and lost in thought. Leaning over, he rapped on the glass of Cragen's office window to get her attention. Startled, she jumped at the sound, whirling around. When they made eye contact, Elliot waved her toward the office.

"The boyfriend have an alibi?" Cragen asked as he watched Olivia dump her jacket at her desk and walk toward his office, fiddling with her silver watch.

"Yeah. He works at a club over on West 48th. His boss verifies he was there until 3 am that night."

The conversation halted momentarily when the office door creaked open and Olivia slipped in. Closing the door behind her, she came to stand beside Elliot, shooting both men a small smile before averting her eyes and staring in the general direction of Cragen's desk.

In an effort to distract the captain from his partner's odd behavior, Elliot continued. "No one living in the neighborhoods surrounding the warehouse saw or heard anything. Uniforms are still canvassing. We're hoping for more info by the end of the day. We did find what may be the murder weapon in a dumpster about four blocks from the crime scene. Tire iron. Looks like a match for the injuries that caused her to bleed to death. No prints. Liv and I are going to head out to the bar she supposedly went to for drinks after work, see if she met up with anyone there."

Falling silent, Elliot glanced quickly over at Olivia, whose eyes were now cast toward the floor as she chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. She didn't appear to have heard anything he just said. Cragen noticed and followed his gaze, eyeing the quiet detective with an emotion closely resembling impatience.

"By the way, thanks for stopping by Olivia. Anything to add?" Cragen asked, leaning back in his chair, tenting his fingers, and arching his eyebrows toward the ceiling.

Head snapping up, Olivia looked attentive for the first time since entering the precinct. She first stared at Elliot, who shot her a look that warned the captain was on the warpath. Clearing her throat, she shook her head but still struggled to make eye contact with Cragen. "Uh, no. That about covers it."

Unaccustomed to this more passive Olivia, Cragen's eyes narrowed, but his face did soften slightly.

"Everything okay Detective?"

"Fine Captain."

This time Olivia did look at him, her eyes steely and alert, her work face firmly in place. It was a good recovery. Knowing better than to push, Cragen nodded and lowered his hands to the arms of his wheeled chair with a sigh. "I've been getting a lot of pressure from 1 P-P to get this case resolved quickly. Apparently the victim was a friend of the mayor's daughter. Get out there, talk to the staff at that bar. Keep digging. Both of you."

"Yes Cap'n." Eager to escape the negative, almost suffocating atmosphere in the captain's quarters, Elliot quickly grabbed the golden door handle and held the door open for Olivia, who glided through quickly and quietly. Wordlessly, Elliot stopped by his locker to grab his winter gear while Olivia searched for the bar's address. Minutes later, they were trotting to the elevator, yanking on their hats and gloves as they went. Despite the bustle around the precinct, they ended up alone in the shiny silver elevator. As soon as the metallic doors slipped shut, Olivia sighed with relief.

"Captain's not having a good morning so far huh?"

Elliot chuckled darkly, leaning against the rear of the elevator such that their shoulders touched lightly.

"You can say that again." As the elevator descended to the parking garage, Olivia rested the back of her head against the smooth, cool interior panel, soothed by the machine's vibrations.

"So how did it go last night? Did you say anything to Kathy about my being at your apartment?"

Elliot shook his head, turning up the collar of his coat absently. "No, not really. I just said we were working on a case. Obviously she was suspicious, but she didn't ask many questions." Elliot pressed his lips together thoughtfully, reading her mind. "You think that's why Cragen is in such a bad mood? You think Kathy called him?

Olivia shrugged. "I don't know. The thought crossed my mind. When you first motioned me into the office, I thought for sure we were busted."

Elliot shook his head again slowly. "I don't think so Liv. Cragen doesn't mince words. If he had suspicions, he would confront us about them. He wouldn't beat around the bush."

"No, probably not," Olivia agreed with a sigh, flexing her fingers inside her warm wool gloves. "How much longer do you think we can keep this under wraps?"

"Not much longer probably." Elliot took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck in the process. "I've been thinking, maybe it's time we come clean."

Watching the red digital floor numbers continue to decrease in the display above her, Olivia tensed.

"And then what? Then they separate us. One of us stays in SVU, the other goes where? Homicide? Major Case? Narcotics? Computer Crimes?" Olivia shook her head slowly. "El, we are both committed to SVU and its mission. Neither of us will be happy if we have to leave the squad. I know. I've tried it. And I also know it won't be the same with any other partner."

Elliot shrugged. "I agree with you. But I'm not happy having to hide how I really feel about you either. Especially from my family and friends."

The elevator dinged loudly, signaling its arrival at the parking garage and effectively ending the conversation. Pushing past a pair of uniforms squeezing into the elevator, Elliot and Olivia entered the parking garage, located their department sedan, and slipped inside the comfortable interior in silence.

Only once they were safely ensconced inside did the conversation resume.

Fastening her seatbelt, Olivia took a deep breath. "El, let's just keep this hidden for as long as we can. There's no sense in telling anyone unless we have to. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I want you as both a boyfriend AND a partner for as long as possible."

Nodding his head reluctantly, Elliot fell silent, maneuvering the sedan expertly into traffic. They drove several blocks without speaking, both lost in their own thoughts. Listening absently to the police scanner in the dash, Elliot felt dread begin to percolate in the pit of his stomach over the conversation he knew he was going to have to initiate. Now.

Clearing his throat, Elliot stared intently through the windshield. "Liv, about this weekend . . ."

Immediately Olivia groaned, knowing instinctively from his tone and the tension radiating from his being that this turn in the conversation was not going to go a direction she liked.

"No. No no no no no." Olivia folded her arms across her chest and stared defiantly at her lover. "No way. Don't do this. We have plans to spend this weekend together. We planned this weeks ago. We have theatre tickets, and dinner reservations!" Even to her own ears Olivia sounded petulant, but at that moment she didn't give a damn.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just . . . I forgot that I told Kathy I would take the kids this weekend. I owed her a switch. We were caught up in a case at the time I asked to switch, and I forgot. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot, I know."

"Of course. Kathy again. I should have known." Shaking her head bitterly, Olivia turned to stare out the window beside her. As the streets flashed by, the woman reflected in the window blinked back tears stubbornly. There was no way Olivia would let him see her cry, not over this. Internally, she berated herself for being so stupid. She was allowing him to keep hurting her like this. She loved him, but she also knew better. Foolishly, she kept coming back for more, completely ignoring her own advice to the legions of battered women she had supported over the course of her career.

Unnerved by her silence, Elliot bulldozed on. He wished she would yell at him, get angry. Seeing her hurt was harder to deal with than any verbal lashing. "I promise I'll make it up to you the next time we get a weekend off together."

Still staring out her window, Olivia laughed cynically. "If I had a penny for every time I have heard that lately."

"You'd be rich, I know. I'm so sorry Liv. Look, maybe I can't go to the theatre with you this weekend, but why don't you still come over? The kids would love to see you. Maureen and Kathleen are coming to visit on Saturday too. We could all go out to dinner together. Test the waters, see if they are ready to hear we've been dating."

"If we tell them, they'll tell Kathy, and then everyone will know, including Cragen and IAB."

Elliot opened his mouth to respond but swallowed his words instead. She was defensive and angry now, minimizing the possibility of any progress being made. Hoping to diffuse the tension, he chose a different tact. "Okay, fine. Look, I know you were really looking forward to this play on Sunday. Why don't you take the tickets, and the dinner reservations, and invite a friend?"

"Because I want to go with you." Olivia's voice was as brittle as broken glass as they pulled up near the bar of interest. Silencing the engine, Elliot leaned back in his seat with a sigh. Reaching over, he moved to put an apologetic hand on her knee but she knocked it away, glaring at him.

"Don't touch me. We're on duty."

"You have no idea how horrible I feel about this Liv." Fiddling with his car keys, Elliot turned his gaze to the bar across the road, taking in the flashing neon sign and the morning regulars who were already stumbling in in anticipation of first call. It was too hard to look directly at her.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Olivia shook her head incredulously. "Oh I'm sorry. Poor you. You are definitely getting the short end of the stick on this one." Her mocking tone was hurtful and she meant it to be. Still, she felt bad when she saw the sting of her comments displayed on Elliot's face. Taking a deep breath, Olivia softened her voice.

"Okay, whatever. I'll take the tickets and invite a friend. Scott, one of my classmates from the academy, just e-mailed me the other day. You remember him, right? He's in town to visit his parents and wants to get together to catch up. The last two times we tried to connect I had to cancel because we caught a case. I guess I could see if he would like to accompany me."

Elliot felt his stomach tighten uncomfortably at that prospect. He did recall meeting Scott once. He also recalled that he didn't like him. At all. Elliot wanted to think it was because Scott had turned in his shield to become a slimy personal injury attorney in Florida, but if he was being honest with himself, that wasn't the real reason. It was because the only time he had met Scott, Elliot had had to listen to him hit on Olivia relentlessly. At the time Elliot had been married with no right to interfere, but now . . .

"I'd prefer you didn't go with Scott."

Olivia froze in disbelief at his audacity, her hand gripping the door handle forcefully. Slowly, she turned to face Elliot, her mouth gaping open. "Are you kidding me right now?" The anger in her voice was virtually tangible. "You blow me off this weekend, cancel plans we have had for weeks, and now you are going to try and tell me whom I can and can't hang out with? Are you serious?"

Elliot shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He knew he was out of line, but the idea of Olivia going anywhere with Scott made him sick to his stomach.

"I don't trust him." Elliot jutted his chin out defiantly and folded his arms over his chest.

"That doesn't matter. You aren't hanging out with him. I am!!" Olivia's pitch climbed so high Elliot was sure the bar's patrons could clearly hear it from across the street. Still, he wasn't about to let it go. He could be stubborn too.

"I'd prefer you took one of your other friends."

"Yeah well, you know what? I'd prefer you didn't put everyone else before me for once in your life! But I don't see that happening either." Olivia's voice cracked and she jerked her gaze out the window again, hiding the torrent of tears that threatened to spill over her lids. Her bottom lip trembling, she inhaled deeply after a moment and turned back to face him, her voice now low and without affect.

"Actually, maybe this is a good thing. We should spend some time apart for the rest of this week and this weekend. We both need to think about what we really want. Then on Monday night we can talk about it."

Elliot sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a threatening headache. "If that's what you think is best. I don't need time to think about it though. I want you."

"You have a really funny way of showing it." Olivia shook her head sadly. "What you want El is to have the best of all worlds. You want me to wait patiently, to take it with a smile, to tell you to do whatever is necessary to keep your ex-wife happy, without any regard for my feelings. I'm sorry, but that's not who I am, and you know that."

Even though he already couldn't look her in the eye, Olivia continued. "Whether we want to admit it or not, our personal relationship has been affecting our work lately, something we vowed we would never let happen. I think it's time to step back and decide whether or not this is working out." Olivia's voice trembled, but she covered it by cranking open the door of the sedan and stepping out onto the gray sidewalk. Sucking in a burning gulp of cold air, she waited for Elliot to do the same, but he remained sitting in the driver's seat, staring blankly ahead.

She almost felt badly for him again. Almost. Until she remembered that she was always the one who acquiesced. Not anymore. It was time to start standing up for herself again. She was not going to be the person who always settled.

Even if it tore her heart into pieces.

Slapping her stoic work face back on, Olivia leaned into the car and kept her voice even. "Come on. It's time to get back to work."

The echo of her slammed door reverberated in both of their ears for hours afterwards.


	9. Space

**Chapter 9 – Space**

A storm was coming.

Seth could feel it in his bones. And it was exciting.

The view outside the bar's large picture window confirmed his instincts. The winter night's sky was pitch black, a dark cloak that blocked out the pale light of the stars. A cold wind whipped violently, twisting the already fallen snow into mini white tornados and obscuring the view of the convenience store across the street. No new snow yet wept from the sky, but that was going to change, and soon. The weatherman was calling for close to six inches. Shoulders hunched and leaning into the wicked wind, pedestrians hustled down the sidewalk, rushing to get home before Mother Nature unleashed her wrath.

Inside the bar, the atmosphere was almost the complete opposite. It too was relatively dark, but the eclectic interior was cheerful and warm. The wind had no influence inside, and it howled its indignity outside the window, whistling through the weak insulation. The bar's patrons had shed their winter attire and sat contently, warm and cozy, completely indifferent to the coming tempest. At least until they left the balmy cocoon of the bar anyway.

A tall glass of light beer sat in front of Seth, an arm's length away, gleaming gold with perspiration. Reaching out, he spun it slowly around on its coaster, watching as a bead of condensation coasted smoothly down the glass and pooled by the rim.

Seth didn't understand the attraction of alcohol, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure why. It could be one of many reasons.

Maybe it was because he had seen what alcohol had done to his father. And, by default, to his family.

Maybe it was because drinking could be expensive, and Seth was extremely cautious with his money.

Maybe it was because he just didn't like the taste.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because when he drank, he lost control. And Seth liked control. He liked it very, very much.

Whatever the reason, Seth couldn't remember the last time he had had a drink. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

The downtown sports bar was impressively busy for a Sunday night, thanks in large part to the post-season football game that dominated the big flat screens spread throughout the building's interior. The bar, all of the tables, and many of the booths were filled with rabid sports fans, hypothesizing about this year's Super Bowl while munching on greasy foods and imbibing pitcher after pitcher of diluted gold liquid. Seth had been sitting quietly at the far end of the bar for the last hour, squished between two regulars already far too drunk to pay him any attention. The heat in the bar had dried out his throat, but he forced himself to sip slowly on his beer. He would have preferred a glass of water, but that would surely be noticed and disapproved of by the busy bartender.

But Seth wasn't really here to drink. He was here to observe.

He observed far better than he drank.

At that very moment, as he pretended to be engrossed in the silly game on the television, his concentration was really focused on a high top table near the other side of the bar, where two men sat, absorbed in easy conversation. These two men were perched on bar stools, facing one of the many wide screen televisions, their backs turned to Seth. They shared a pitcher and were eating from a silver bowl of salted peanuts which was consistently and enthusiastically refilled by their doting waitress. Seth had overheard her describing the two men as "handsome hotties" to one of her colleagues.

One of said "handsome hotties" was Elliot Stabler. The other, Seth knew, was his good friend Adam Garland, with whom Elliot had completed basic training for the Marines. He had also been Elliot's best man. In return, Adam had the honor of several full-color pictures in Seth's scrapbook. The two men had been at the bar for an hour now, their attention divided almost equally between companionable general conversation and the game.

Seth had never had a best friend like that before. He was looking forward to it.

Sitting too far away to overhear their conversation, Seth relied entirely on his vision to absorb and catalogue details. Details that were rapidly becoming crucial. With fanatical curiosity, he watched the two men interact, observing their body language and memorizing everything he could about the way Elliot sat, drank, ate, and talked. He noted with interest that Elliot still hadn't shaven for several days. His normally smooth face bore the beginnings of a scruffy beard. Frowning, Seth rubbed his own chin absently. He had never been able to grow a beard of any substance, but he was trying.

For now, the soft downy peach fuzz that speckled his chin was going to have to do. He didn't have much time.

As Elliot lifted his glass to his lips, Seth mimicked his movements, taking a deep gulp and wincing slightly as the liquid slithered down his throat. Fighting his gag reflex, he coughed wetly. Entirely unpleasant stuff. Dropping his glass back to its cardboard mat with a muffled clunk, Seth glanced irritably at his watch. It was getting late. Mentally, he willed Elliot to leave soon. It was essential he ensure Elliot arrived home safely before getting the rest of his night underway.

It wasn't like Elliot to be out drinking on a Sunday night. But then again, he had been annoyingly unpredictable these last few days.

Elliot had had his children this weekend, which was completely unexpected given last weekend had also been his weekend. When he saw Elliot leaving Kathy's house several days ago with the children in tow, Seth had panicked. After they drove away, he had had to get out of his car and walk the streets for an hour to calm down and stop hyperventilating. That was not the way it was supposed to be, and he needed things to go exactly as planned. Especially right now, with the time so close. Once his anxiety had dissipated again, Seth had shrewdly devised a backup plan, but fortunately it looked like he wouldn't need it. Kathy had come to get the children just before dinner tonight, and everything fell back into place. There would be no need for Plan B.

Just the way he liked it.

The only outlier in the equation was Olivia. His beautiful, exotic Olivia. The thought of her made his stomach tighten excitedly and phantom traces of her sweet scent flood his nostrils. His hands trembled with anticipation as he reached for his glass and took another sip.

Olivia. He hadn't seen her with Elliot outside of work for days. But that was okay.

He had a backup plan for her too.

* * *

"So let me get this straight. It's Sunday night. Your hot-as-hell girlfriend is out to dinner with another man. And you are sitting here, drinking beer with me."

As the teams trotted off the field for half-time, Adam sat up straight on his bar stool, stretching out the annoying kink in his back that had developed from leaning forward and looking up. Seizing the slippery glass in front of him, Adam took a lengthy pull of his beer before returning his gaze to his drinking buddy and shaking his head in amazement. "I gotta tell you man, that makes absolutely no sense to me. At all."

Groaning internally, Elliot instantly regretted having said anything to his long-time friend. He hadn't intended on it when he called Adam and suggested they go out to catch the game, but the events of the last week had spilled out of his mouth almost involuntarily over the course of the last hour. As Adam was the only person outside of Olivia and himself that knew about their relationship, Elliot had felt compelled to divulge their recent struggles. Adam had listened thoughtfully, munching on handful after handful of salted peanuts from the dish in front of them. And now that he had had time to process, he wouldn't let it go.

Still shaking his head, Adam burped lightly and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table and glancing mindlessly around the bar. "And you're okay with this?"

"No," Elliot snapped, spinning his cardboard coaster on the circular table in front of them. "I'm not _okay_ with it. But what am I supposed to do? I made it clear I didn't like her going with him, and she elected to go anyway. Short of physically restraining her, not much I can do about it. She has made it clear she wants her space. Fine." Elliot made a dismissive motion with his hand. "She can have it."

"Ouch," Adam winced, dragging his draft glass across the table and leaving a wet snail trail in its wake. "Women and their space. What's up with that?"

"Well, to be fair to her, I haven't exactly been the best boyfriend lately," Elliot admitted, taking a gulp of his beer to wash down the remnants of his last handful of peanuts.

"This guy she's out with tonight, he have a thing for her?" Before Elliot could respond in the affirmative, Adam held up a silencing hand. "Wait, dumb question. Of course he does. What hot-blooded heterosexual male wouldn't? I know I sure do." As Elliot threw a mock threatening glare his way, Adam laughed and signaled their waitress for another pitcher.

After ordering a pound of wings, the men relapsed into comfortable silence. Adam grinned up at the flat screen TV that hung above and in front of them while Elliot sat lost in thought, staring down into the watery depths of his glass. Around them, the bar was a melodic mix of clinking silverware, vague conversation, and the whistling wind. On the TV, sports analysts began arguing about a coach's play choice. Losing interest in the debate, Adam returned his attention to Elliot.

"Not to be negative, but you do realize he's going to try to get Olivia into bed, right?"

"I seriously don't want to talk about that," Elliot growled, gripping his slippery glass hard between two fingers. The brew inside was cold against his sweaty fingertips. He had invited Adam to hang out in the hopes that it would distract him from Olivia, not to discuss her "date".

Adam shrugged but continued to play the devil's advocate. "Maybe you don't want to think about it, but don't be naive. He's got the perfect opportunity. They will have eaten a nice, romantic meal at the restaurant you picked out for them, so she'll be in the mood. She's mad at you. She's not sure what she wants. What better way to test the strength of her feelings for you than screwing another guy?"

"Enough!" Elliot slammed the palm of his hand down hard onto the high top table with a loud fleshy slap. As a burning sting radiated from his fingertips all the way up to his shoulders, several people at the surrounding tables turned to gawk at his outburst. Instantly sobering and shooting an apologetic look at the bouncer now watching him with interest, Elliot sighed.

"Aren't you supposed to be trying to make me feel better? I thought you were my friend." Despite the harsh words, there was no anger in Elliot's voice. Only resignation. The only person he was angry at in that moment was himself.

Taking a sip of his fresh beverage, Adam felt only a little remorse for needling his friend. He had known Elliot for a long time, had seen him through good and bad. He also knew that without a push into action, Elliot was slow to fight for what made him happy.

Turning his attention back to the commentators on TV, Adam's reply to Elliot's "accusations" was mild. "Truth hurts friend. She coming over after her date?"

Elliot ran a beleaguered hand over his face, the rough stubble of his beard scratching the soft skin of his palm. "It's not a date. But no. She's crashing at her place tonight, like she has for the last six damn days. My bed has been cold, lonely, and boring as hell."

Eyebrows raised, Adam regarded him carefully but said nothing. He didn't need to. His expression said it all, and Elliot fell immediately back into denial.

"Look, they're just friends. They went to see a show, and then for dinner after, and then that's it. He goes home, she goes home."

Adam nodded, smirking slightly and taking an elongated swallow of his lager. "If you say so buddy. You put a lot of trust in her."

Elliot sighed and drained his glass wearily. "I trust Liv with my life. But I don't trust this Scott guy at all."

As colorful jerseys began to dot the playing field on the screen above him again, Elliot poured himself a fresh drink and immediately downed half of it. A pleasant buzz was starting to wash over his body, but it did little to ebb the jagged pain of unease in his belly.

Pushing the peanut dish in circles around the table, Adam refused to let the subject drop. "Seriously Elliot, take some advice from an old, albeit single, friend. You have to learn to stand up to the two adult women in your life. They both play you like a piano. Right now, Olivia is being unreasonable. She needs to accept that until Eli is older, Kathy is going to have some pull in your life, whether she likes it or not. Your kids are your priority. She knew that going in. And Kathy needs to let you go. You're divorced, and you are with someone else. You let her keep pulling your strings like a puppet, she's going to ruin your chances of having a relationship with anyone. Which, quite frankly, is probably her goal."

Elliot chuckled weakly. "Yeah well, she can play the kid card, and she knows it. That makes it harder."

Adam shook his head fiercely, pointing a scolding finger in Elliot's direction. "Get over your guilt buddy. You're a good father; you love and provide for your kids. Don't you think they would want to see you happy?" Shrugging his shoulders wearily in response, Elliot grabbed a handful of peanuts from the moving dish and tried not to think about what Olivia might be doing at that very moment.

When one of the teams scored a touchdown, the bar erupted into feverish cheers and high fives, but Elliot barely noticed. His mind wasn't in the game, lost instead somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind. He snapped out of it only momentarily when the young waitress stopped by to drop off the basket of wings. She winked playfully at him on her way past, but the gesture was lost on him. Adam, on the other hand, smiled at her appreciatively and carefully watched the sway of her backside as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

"She's probably legal, right?" Adam joked, elbowing his friend lightly in the side.

"I've been thinking about retiring from the force." Elliot blurted the comment out offhand, completely ignoring his friend's remark. Eager for Adam's unbiased response, he tried to keep his expression neutral. Adam absorbed the statement calmly with a nod of his head.

"It's about time. Actually, it's probably past time. I've been telling you that for a while now. The work you do, it's not mentally or physically healthy."

"I know. I love my work. But really, I've been doing it a lot longer than most people can stand. I'm not burnt out on it, not yet, but I feel like it's time."

Adam poured himself a fresh glass of beer and topped up Elliot's, spilling a bit of the light amber liquid onto the table. "You're young yet for retirement. Will you lose some of your pension?"

Elliot shrugged. "A little bit. But I figure I will keep doing some extra work on the side. I have a buddy that runs a private security company in the Bronx. He's been after me for a long time to come work with him as a consultant. Monday to Friday work, day time hours. I could do a lot of work from home too."

Adam nodded carefully. "It would be a hell of a change for you, that's for sure."

Elliot tilted his head thoughtfully, scratching at his thin beard. "I've had time to think these last few days. I missed so much of my kids growing up. But Eli is still young. I have a chance to rectify that. But not if I keep working at SVU. It's too time and energy intensive. I've been looking at some houses, mostly in Queens. I was thinking, maybe get a small place. A few bedrooms. And then take a bigger role in Eli's life. Maybe take him every other week instead of just every other weekend. It would be good for me, and Eli, and it would help Kathy out. I would get a second chance to be a good father."

"You are already a good father. And technically, Eli would be your fifth chance," grinned Adam, arranging a curving string of peanuts on the table top. After a moment of thought he suddenly sobered, meeting Elliot's eyes. "Seriously man, I think it's a good idea."

Elliot shrugged. "I'm not committed to it yet, but it looks better every day. And if Liv and I are still . . ." he swallowed before continuing carefully ". . . together after this weekend, if I were to retire, she could stay on at SVU, and we wouldn't need to hide our relationship. Maybe we could even look into getting that house together. Get married." Elliot shook his head. "But I'm getting way ahead of myself. Who knows what will go down tomorrow when we "talk"."

Sensing his friend's melancholy, Adam leaned forward, letting the tip of his finger smudge the ring of water left on the faux wood table by the base of his beer glass. "It doesn't have to end. You've got something really good going on between the two of you. You make each other happy. Fight for it. Talk to her. And I mean really talk to her about what's going on. She probably doesn't know the half of what Kathy is threatening you with. She'll come around. And as for Kathy, start telling her no. Yes, this weekend she was in the right and you had no choice. But from now on, make her deal with Eli on her own if you are busy. You two have four other kids, it's not like she's never had to deal with discipline problems before. Just don't let her screw things up between you and Liv. If you do, you'll regret it."

Nodding his head slowly in agreement, Elliot tipped his glass up in a toast to his friend, feeling a smidgen of hope spark and smolder in his gut. "How the hell did you get so smart?"

Adam laughed jovially before bringing his glass to his mouth and downing the dregs, wiping the foam around his lips on the back of his hand. "I'm like a fine wine. I get better with age. You know what though, if things don't work out between you and Liv, you could always be a pal and set us up."

This time it was Elliot's turn to laugh heartily. "No way in hell."

They had only just barely turned their attention back to the big screen when an excited exclamation near the front of the bar had them twisting in their seats. Near the big picture window, several patrons were pointing animatedly at the sheets of snow currently pouring down from the heavens. The white precipitation fell in dense, thick flakes that instantly adhered to whatever they came into contact with and began accumulating.

"Here comes that storm they've been calling for," mused Adam mildly, twisting back in his seat and returning his focus to the resumed game. Elliot continued to stare out the window for a few seconds longer, marveling at the beauty of the falling crystals. Swiveling back in his seat to join his friend, he made a mental note to leave early for work in the morning if he wanted to be on time. Harsh snowstorms in Manhattan usually brought with them a healthy dose of chaos.

Unfortunately, he didn't even know the half of it.


	10. Waiting

**Chapter 10 – Waiting**

He had a key, but that night he didn't use it.

The entire way over to Olivia's apartment, Elliot had debated with himself whether or not he should. In the end, fear won out. It would be painful enough to have her answer the door mussed and flustered, the very image of impropriety. It would be far worse to walk in and actually catch them in the act, hearing her make the exquisite sounds of pleasure Elliot arrogantly assumed she had reserved for him. For that reason, instead of just letting himself in, he chose to knock. Loudly.

If pressed, Elliot could not have recalled the exact moment when he had decided to go to Olivia's apartment instead of absconding to the relative simplicity of his own. His memory was a bit blurry, a casualty of the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed. All he could remember was leaving the bar with Adam, stumbling into him as they stepped out into the gusty wind. His good friend had quickly hailed a cab and bid Elliot farewell, off to his small brownstone at the outskirts of the city. Elliot had had every intention of following suit as he turned up his collar against the raging snowstorm and blinked hard against the gnat-like ice pellets that irritated his eyes. Before he really knew what he was doing however, he had lurched off in the direction of Olivia's apartment and kept walking, bracing himself against the strong wind and heavy curtain of snow. With each step, Adam's advice kept ringing in his ears.

Fight for it.

By the time he reached her building, Elliot was soaked to the bone and shivering from the heavy snow that had stuck to, and subsequently melted through, his clothing. Using her building key to gain access to the lobby, he tripped his way up the stairs, his vision slightly fuzzy around the edges. Arriving at her door, he leaned heavily against the wooden frame, wondering absently when he had stopped being able to handle his liquor and if this truly was a good idea. If she wanted to talk, really talk, he was in no condition for that. It was too late now though. He was here, and he had to see her. Leaning forward, he rapped loudly and insistently against the colored wood.

And then he waited. But not for too long.

When Olivia finally wrenched her door open, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Elliot's breath caught in his throat. She looked absolutely beautiful, both soft and feminine, a side she was skilled at minimizing on the job but that he adored now he was privy to it. She was wearing a short black skirt over dark nylons topped with a forest green cashmere sweater that hugged her curves flirtatiously and highlighted the green flecks in her chocolate eyes. Her hair was shiny and hung straight to her shoulders. Silver earrings dangled from her ears, glinting in the light of her apartment. She was made up naturally, with only soft powder on her face and a light charcoal liner accentuating her intelligent eyes.

"El?? What are you doing here? Why didn't you use your key?" Olivia hissed quietly, holding the door open but blocking his entrance with her arm.

"He here?" Elliot grunted, his deep voice echoing down the empty hallway as he tried to peer around her. As Olivia opened her mouth to respond, something over his shoulder caught her eye. Grabbing Elliot's arm, she yanked him smoothly into her apartment. Just as she closed the door behind them, Elliot noticed the bathrobe-clad lady from across the hall standing in her doorway, arms folded tightly across her chest. His steady knocking at close to midnight had not disturbed only Olivia apparently. She wouldn't be popular with the neighbors for awhile.

Elliot walked unsteadily out of the foyer to the kitchen, placing a hand on the marble countertop of the breakfast island to balance himself. When he felt stable enough, he straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. Looking at Olivia defiantly, Elliot repeated his earlier question, enunciating his words carefully.

"Is he here?"

"Is who here El?" Olivia's face was the picture of genuine confusion for several seconds before he saw the light bulb go on. "Oh, you mean Scott. He's not here El. Why would he be?" Finally appreciating the implication behind the question, Olivia chuckled dryly but not meanly. "I'm flattered by your trust. We went to the show, and then dinner, and then I came home. And that's it. We're just friends."

Inside, Elliot felt a nauseating combination of relief and shame. Even in his inebriated state, he knew he sounded possessive and paranoid, but at that moment he couldn't help it. To cover his embarrassment, he felt the need to pick a fight.

"That skirt's a bit short for dinner with "just a friend", don't you think?"

Raising her eyebrows mildly, Olivia folded her arms lightly over her chest, mimicking his posture. "Well, it's a good thing I don't have to vet my wardrobe choices with you, now isn't it?" There was more amusement in her voice than anything and when he saw she was not willing to play his petty game, Elliot felt even worse for his accusations.

As Elliot fell silent, Olivia took in his disheveled appearance for the first time since he had shown up at her door.

"God El, you're soaked!" Stepping forward, she closed the distance between them and reached out, squeezing his soggy coat. "Did you walk here? We're in the middle of a snowstorm!"

"Needed to see you," Elliot mumbled, swaying slightly on his feet, his eyes locked pleadingly on her face. She looked so gorgeous it was almost physically painful for him to be near her but not touch. Concerned, Olivia unzipped his waterlogged coat and peeled it off him, feeling his skin quiver with cold. Even the layers underneath were damp and cold rivets of water trickled down his face from the melting snow in his hair. The closer she got, the stronger the smell of booze got. This was the first time she had seen Elliot drunk, and it wasn't a pleasant picture.

Pulling Elliot's damp sweatshirt off over his head, Olivia placed it carefully on the back of her dining room chair to dry beside his coat. Grabbing his arm, she led him over to the couch, holding on to him until she was sure he wasn't going to topple over. "I'm going to get you some dry clothes. Strip down to your boxers. I'll be right back."

As Olivia disappeared into the bedroom, Elliot plopped down on the couch and ran a hand through his short hair, suddenly exhausted. Water streamed down his face as he dislodged clumps of snow and he felt extremely silly. He should have known better. He should have trusted her. Now he was sitting here and looking every bit the fool.

As the sound of muffled footfalls on the carpet grew closer, Elliot jolted back into action, lifting his hips off the couch cushions long enough to slide his jeans down and kick them away. Now he shivered openly, sitting mostly naked in her living room. Returning to the couch, Olivia handed him a clean, dry t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants he had left previously at her apartment. Gratefully he slid into them, studiously avoiding her eyes by closely examining the fibres of the carpet.

Olivia opened up the towel she had brought with his clothes and slowly rubbed it over his head to remove the snow and icy water from his short hair. The gentle caress of her hands on his head felt like heaven, and Elliot closed his eyes to savor it. Sensing him relax beneath her, she took her time, massaging his scalp through the soft terrycloth even after she knew his short hair was long dry. When she was finished, she released the towel, leaving it covering his head like a shroud. He sat dutifully, quietly, and submissively in front of her, his hands resting on his thighs. In all the time she had known him, Olivia had never seen Elliot so still and submissive. Something about it touched her.

Removing the towel and folding it into her hands, Olivia slowly sat beside him on the couch, resting her elbows on her thighs and slipping a loose strand of shiny hair behind her ears. She turned her head hoping to meet his eyes, but Elliot kept staring straight ahead blindly. As her eyes flitted over his face, she felt sorry for him. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept for weeks, likely the combination of true sleep deprivation mixing with the alcohol. The stubble darkening his face suggested he hadn't been taking care of himself.

Eager to put him at least a bit at ease, Olivia cleared her throat. "El, I would never do anything intentionally to hurt you. You know that right?" When he glanced up at her, his eyes were dark with an emotion she struggled to identify, but he nodded slowly before lowering his gaze again.

"I know. I'm sorry. I trust you. I'm just being dumb." His voice was soft as he picked at invisible lint on his gray sweatpants. He felt every inch the ignorant, insensitive boyfriend as the alcohol slowly dissipated from his system. It was only a matter of time now before she realized she was far better off without him. But until that time, he was going to follow Adam's advice.

Fight for it.

"Don't end this." The words were breathed more than spoken, and Elliot wasn't sure she had even heard them until he looked up and saw unshed tears glossing her eyes. Silently, she reached out and let her fingertips graze over his face starting at his forehead, tracing the craggy lines of his wrinkles and working their way down over the bridge of his nose, spreading out to his cheeks, brushing over the abrasive stubble of his growing beard before finally skimming lightly across his lips.

To his relief, if ending their relationship was her intention, it wasn't clear from her next statement.

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." Elliot breathed a bit more calmly, his thinking process still a bit befuddled but clearing. "I'm sorry about today. About everything that's happened lately. I know I haven't been fair to you. For what it's worth, I really wanted to take you to the theatre today."

Olivia smiled lightly as they sat side-by-side on the couch, legs touching, staring down at her carpet. "I know you did El. I'm sorry I haven't been more supportive. The things I said in the car that day, they were out of line. You're doing the best you can with the balancing act you've been handed. I came into this relationship knowing that your children were your priority. You love them more than anything, and that makes you the wonderful father you are. Your commitment to your family is one of the things I admire the most about you. Well, that and your Atlas body." The joking comment earned her a small smile. "And yet I was punishing you for it. I'm sorry. I just don't want to lose you back to Kathy."

Elliot shook his head fiercely. "That would never happen. Kathy and I are over. Yes I love my kids but I love you too Liv. I just haven't been good at showing you that lately."

"I know you do El." Gently Olivia reached out and took his hand in hers, linking their fingers together. "And I love you. I don't want this to end any more than you do."

Elliot released a long shaky breath at her welcome words. "It makes me feel so much better to hear you say that. God, you have no idea."

Leaning over, Olivia dropped her head to his shoulder, burrowing her face into his neck. Reaching across, Elliot grabbed her legs and swung them over his, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. She smelled and felt so good he never wanted to let go. When he finally did relax his arms, he dropped one hand down to her leg and let it slide lightly over her soft dark nylons as they cuddled on the couch in the complete silence of her apartment.

As they lay together quietly, Elliot could sense Olivia had something else she wanted to say, but was struggling to voice it. Holding her close, he longed to make her feel comfortable enough to open up.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, kissing her temple lightly and feeling her tremble pleasantly at the contact, or his words, or both. When she didn't pull away from him, he decided to test his limits and dipped his head lower, kissing the bridge of her nose but not forcing her to commit to anything further. She was the one who tilted her head up to give him better access, and he warmly took her up on the invitation, parting his lips to kiss her softly.

Things probably would have continued to progress were it not for the sudden and adamant vibration of Elliot's cell phone in the pocket of his coat on the chair beside them.

Groaning, Elliot moved his arm from around Olivia but didn't disturb her from his lap. Reaching over, he fumbled in his pocket and yanked out his cell phone. Pulling the offending device closer, he snapped it open and checked the glowing display.

Of course. Kathy.

With an irritated grunt, Elliot reached up with his thumb and held down the power button until the phone fell silent and the display blinked off. With a light flick of his wrist, he tossed the phone over the table at the fabric chair that sat directly across from them. It bounced off the plush cushion and fell to the floor, skittering across the carpet and then the linoleum until it came to rest under one of the breakfast island's stools.

"C'mon," Elliot mumbled, patting the outside of Olivia's thigh affectionately. "It's late and we have to work tomorrow. Let's go to bed."

* * *

Seth didn't know it was possible.

Possible to feel so cold and yet so hot at the same time.

Had the wind not died down, Seth didn't doubt for a second that he would be completely buried in a drift of snow by now. The roof on which he stood was completely exposed to the elements, affording him no shelter from the cascading precipitation. The snow had slowed a little, but the heavy, wet, white stuff was still streaming from the sky in ridiculous quantities. Thanks to the constant deluge, Seth had to strain his eyes through his binoculars to watch the scene unfolding in the apartment across the street.

And what a scene it was.

No more than thirty minutes ago, Seth had followed Elliot back to Olivia's apartment, fighting the blustery wind and cursing Elliot for not returning to his own apartment like he was supposed to. Had it been necessary to stay well back to avoid being made, Seth likely would have lost him in the blowing snow. Fortunately Elliot's alertness had been decreased substantially by the alcohol he drank previously with Adam. It made Seth's job a little easier anyway.

And easier was better.

When Elliot disappeared into Olivia's building, Seth had snuck into the building directly across the street. He had pretended to fiddle around with his mail key until one of the building's legal occupants showed up. Grabbing the secured entry door before it closed behind the man, Seth quickly entered the building and made his way up to the roof, savoring the brief period of heat that helped him thaw a little. From the roof, he knew from experience he would have a good view into Olivia's bedroom.

When Seth had stepped outside again onto the roof, he was greeted by another barrage of flurries. Inwardly, he cursed for the millionth time that night. Things were not going as he had hoped. He couldn't put his plan into action until he knew Elliot was safely ensconced somewhere for the night. Given the current chill in Elliot and Olivia's relationship, he couldn't be sure Elliot was going to stay with her. For that reason, he was forced to wait and see.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long.

As Seth hopped back and forth to try and keep warm, the light in Olivia's bedroom suddenly snapped on. Jumping to attention, he grabbed the binoculars from around his neck and jerked them to his eyes. The scene he was greeted with made his internal temperature skyrocket, buffering his body pleasantly against the cold that surrounded him.

Olivia and Elliot had literally stumbled into her bedroom, kissing frantically, their hands roaming wildly. Using his foot, Elliot closed the door after them, maintaining contact with Olivia's mouth as his hands tangled in her dark tresses. They stood near the door for several moments, a whirling dervish of mouths and hands, before Olivia slipped her fingers under Elliot's t-shirt and pushed it up suggestively. Taking the hint, Elliot backed away slightly, his hands and mouth retracting but his eyes remaining locked on her as he drew the shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor behind him. They stayed inches apart for a moment, Olivia breaking his gaze to look down at his chest and let her fingers trace lightly over the skin and hair there.

Lowering the binoculars for a quick second, Seth realized suddenly he was panting with desire. It was almost as if he could feel Olivia's hands on him, touching him with the same tenderness she caressed Elliot. He craved that, and of course he would have it soon. But he would need to hit the gym first if he wanted her to admire his body as much as she admired Elliot's. He had some work to do, but there would be time for that soon. She would have to take what she could get for now.

As Seth again raised the binoculars to his greedy eyes, Elliot grabbed Olivia by the waist, pulled her tight against him, and backed her up into the wall, bumping them both so roughly Seth could see the impact. Olivia wrapped one leg around him, tucking her ankle just behind his knee and drawing them even closer. Reaching back, Elliot slid a hand all the way up her leg starting at her ankle. Seth felt his eye twitch, his heart pound, and his knees weaken as Elliot pushed up her short skirt, reaching underneath. Olivia broke the kiss at his touch, leaning her head back against the wall and watching him with heavy-lidded eyes and a slightly parted mouth. The expression on her face was so sensual that Seth almost lost all blood flow to his brain. In that moment, he would have killed for an audio feed to soak up the full experience, to know what Elliot had said and done to make Olivia look at him that way.

The man truly was a God.

Seth watched intently as the muscles in Elliot's arms worked, his mouth never leaving Olivia's, his other hand working its way under her skirt. With several quick jerks, he had ripped her nylons and started expertly peeling the torn garment off. Seth shifted uncomfortably, suddenly scorching hot despite the cold. He wouldn't have been surprised if the snow around him started melting in the face of his heat. Breaking the kiss, Olivia pulled her head away and said something to Elliot with a look close to admonishment on her face. Whatever Elliot's response was, it must have been the right one, because she laughed and closed her mouth on his again.

Effortlessly lifting her off the ground, Elliot quickly walked over to the bed and dropped her onto it. Leaning forward, Seth gripped the iron guardrail in front of him with a shaking hand, desperate to get as close to the action as possible, his entire body throbbing with anticipation. Olivia lay like an angel on the patterned quilt, her arms raised over her head trustingly as Elliot crawled over top of her almost predatorily. Seth trembled as he watched Elliot's ropy hands push her skirt back up her now bare legs, bunching it around her waist before letting his hands slip up to caress her sides.

Even as they kissed, Seth noted with amazement that Elliot's hands never stopped working, pushing up Olivia's sweater until he could pull it easily over her head. He pitched it off to the side as she settled back onto the bed, watching him adoringly. Slowly, Elliot lowered his mouth to her stomach, kissing softly around her belly button and feathering his lips over her heaving ribs. His beard must have tickled her, because she smiled and squirmed and he moved back up over her. For a moment they lay still, not speaking as far as Seth could tell, just gazing at each other before Elliot covered her mouth with his once more. In response, Olivia arched her hips up and splayed her fingers across his broad back.

Pushing himself up onto his hands, Elliot suddenly rolled away from her, getting up off the bed and walking toward the window. Seth felt his heart stutter as he watched Elliot move closer to him, almost as if he knew Seth was there. As Elliot sauntered over, sweatpants slung low on his hips, Seth's knees trembled and almost gave out. Leaning all his weight against the frozen brick in front of him, he tried unsuccessfully to keep his hands from quivering. His binoculars quaked as he struggled to keep them trained on the bedroom.

When Elliot reached the window he paused for a moment, and Seth wondered with interest if Elliot could see him standing there; wondered if their eyes were really making the connection Seth longed for. He knew deep down Elliot couldn't see him - it was far too dark and snowy and Seth was dressed all in black, but the thought was thrilling anyway. The thrill ended a second later however, when Elliot reached up and pulled down the shade, a cream barrier that even Seth's binoculars couldn't penetrate.

Legs finally giving out from an adrenaline overdose, Seth collapsed to the ground, feeling the snow soak through the bottom of his dark jeans. Putting his head between his knees, he tried to get his ragged breathing back under control, willing his body to relax. He forced himself to think of the most mundane things, but it was nearly impossible with the hot images playing in his mind's eye. He lost track of how long he sat there, just focusing on breathing and steadying the rate of his heartbeat. When he finally felt able, Seth hauled himself to his feet, brushing the snow from his shoulders like errant dandruff. Slipping his binoculars back under cover of his coat, he took a deep breath, enjoying the empowering sensation of the old dirty air leaving his lungs and the fresh air cleansing his body.

He was ready.

It was time.


	11. Missing

**Chapter 11 – Missing**

Elliot Stabler was having one of "_those_" mornings.

A bad morning. No, an _awful_ morning.

The kind of morning when a man wonders why he even bothered to get out of bed in the first place and wishes vehemently he could crawl back in.

As the bitter night finally released its stranglehold on Manhattan, the sun peeked innocently over the horizon, banishing the last of the menacing storm clouds with the moon. The dim but fresh morning light twinkled merrily off the multiple inches of freshly fallen snow, glittering like a thousand diamonds. The wind was calm, having exhausted itself during the night, and the temperature was warmer than it had been for days. Relatively speaking, all was quiet - for Manhattan anyway. The imposing mounds of new snow muffled most sound, including the high-pitched whine of snow blowers as they began firing up around the city.

By all appearances, it looked as if it would be a beautiful, crisp, clear winter's day. The calm after the storm.

But appearances can be deceiving.

The alarm had sounded far too early for Elliot's liking. His late arrival at Olivia's the previous evening, coupled with hours of incredible make-up sex, had eaten away most of the night. So when the alarm had buzzed bright and early that morning like a gigantic pesky mosquito, Elliot's body still felt bone weary, as if he hadn't slept at all. Irritated, Elliot had rolled over and smacked at the buzzing box, forgetting entirely that he was in Olivia's bedroom, not his own. The alarm wasn't in the anticipated location. Instead, the back of his hand met the solid, unforgiving wood of her nightstand with a loud crack and he had cursed violently, jerking his injured hand back into his body to quell the sting. His entire hand had still been red and swollen when he left for work.

That morning Olivia had been extremely slow to rouse, grumbling and burrowing deeper under the covers in spite of his insistent nuzzling. While she continued to doze, Elliot had slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower, only to discover too late that there was a problem with the hot water - mainly that there was none. He had cursed again as icy water relentlessly pelted his skin, stirring up red welts and unpleasant memories of his drunken walk to Olivia's the previous evening.

After a quick, unsatisfying shower, Elliot had headed into the kitchen to make them both breakfast, annoyed to find that Olivia had absolutely no food in the apartment. Instead of the nice, warm, hearty breakfast he was craving, all he was able to scrounge up was half a loaf of whole wheat bread and some peanut butter.

Toast it was.

To be fair, Olivia's morning really wasn't any better. Thanks to Elliot's warning, she managed to avoid the worst of the icy shower, only ducking her head in briefly to shampoo her hair. When she had emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, he could tell that she was not herself. Sitting morosely at the breakfast island, she had pushed the toast around her plate aimlessly with none of it making its way to her mouth. When Elliot had pressed, she admitted she was feeling a little nauseous and he had noticed for the first time that her normally olive complexion was pale. He had kissed her forehead softly, feeling for a fever, but she didn't seem to have one. Still, she didn't even touch the coffee he placed in front of her, and she loved her morning coffee.

When he suggested she head back to bed for a short nap before work, Elliot had expected her to put up a fuss. When she didn't, he knew she really was sick. He had tucked her in with a promise to let Cragen know she would be in as soon as she could. By the time he left the apartment she was asleep, her face relaxed but her color still poor. His concern for Olivia had only worsened Elliot's morning. She was occupying his thoughts so entirely that he barely missed being clipped by two vehicles on his way to the subway station because he wasn't watching where he was going. Exiting the steamy subway tunnel, he had cautioned himself to be more careful, just in time to watch a minivan swerve close to the curb in front of him to avoid another car. Naturally, its wheels splashed up a layer of grime and slush that had coated his pressed khaki pants.

As Elliot walked into the precinct, angrily brushing gray chunks of dirty wet snow off his pants, he thought wryly that at least his day couldn't get much worse.

How wrong he was.

The sense of unease began building the second Elliot stepped from the cold into the gleaming marble foyer of the precinct. The very moment the toe of his winter boot crossed that threshold, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and an uncomfortable prickling sensation spread like wildfire down his spine. At first he thought it was just his imagination, that he was being paranoid, but he could have sworn he caught more than a few troubled glances in his direction as he strode toward the first floor elevator, shedding winter gear as he walked. When he glanced back however, his colleagues suddenly seemed to find something extremely fascinating on their desks, clutched in their hands, or at the bottom of their coffee cups. Brows slightly furrowed, Elliot slid into the elevator and punched the glowing yellow button for SVU's floor. Even as the door smoothly glided to a close, Elliot was unable to shake the "creepy-crawly" sensation that had burrowed under his skin like a tick.

Weird and weirder.

When Elliot stepped out of the moving steel coffin onto SVU's floor, the first thing he noticed was the quiet, the hush. Normally SVU was a labyrinth of activity and sound - phones ringing, computer keys clicking, voices speculating - but that morning, it was quiet.

Too quiet. Funeral parlor quiet.

Rounding the corner through the open glass door, Elliot spotted a small knot of people in the center of the room, their murmured conversation the only audible sound. Dropping his jacket and gloves onto his cluttered desk, Elliot strolled toward the group, his curiosity piqued.

"Hey. What's going on?"

At the sound of his voice, the huddle parted up the middle, unfurling outward until it formed a half circle. All eyes in the huddle turned to him but no one spoke, the room falling completely silent except for the hum of running computers. As he scanned the faces in the huddle before him, he noticed again that pitying look he previously thought he had imagined. Frowning, Elliot focused on the faces of his friends, searching eagerly for answers no one was readily giving up. Cragen, Fin, and Munch all met his gaze with sympathy. With each passing second, Elliot's confusion was rapidly giving way to a sense of fear that slowed the flow of blood through his veins.

And then Elliot's eyes fell on the person at the center of the silent huddle.

Kathy. And she had been crying.

Feeling his heart constrict anxiously, Elliot quickly covered the remaining distance between himself and the huddle with long strides.

"Kathy. What's wrong?" Trying to remain calm, he penetrated the semi-circle until he was mere inches from his ex-wife. At that proximity, he could clearly see that her face was blotchy and tear-streaked and that her hands shook as she rung them together.

"Elliot!" Throwing herself at him, Kathy burst into noisy tears. Shocked, Elliot instinctively wrapped his strong arms around her. "Please tell me you have Eli! Where's Eli?"

Elliot's entire body stiffened at her words until he was sure his bones and muscles would snap from the tension. Pushing Kathy gently away from him, he held her at arm's length, his hands trembling in shock at her question, a question to which she should have known the answer.

"Kathy, why would I have Eli? You picked him up yesterday, remember?" For a brief instant, he wished fervently that Kathy had lost her mind. Any other option was simply too horrifying to consider.

"Oh God! He's gone, someone has kidnapped him!" Kathy's wails were deafening in the quiet room as she clutched at Elliot, her fingers digging painfully into the skin of his biceps through his clothes. As Elliot's stomach bottomed out excruciatingly, he locked his arms tightly around her, words chugging sluggishly around in his addled brain. He struggled in vain to get his voice to work, to probe for more details, but he was already too preoccupied with comprehending the little he had just heard.

Fear, rage, and confusion swirled together potently in his gut, forming a dangerous cocktail. Fortunately, the need to ask more intelligent questions became momentarily irrelevant as Kathy kept talking, her voice muffled in the now damp lapel of his suit jacket.

"I heard a noise last night around three o'clock. Like something had fallen over. I walked through the house, but didn't see anything, so I checked on the kids. They were all asleep, everything was fine Elliot, I swear. But when I got up this morning, Eli was gone! I checked the entire house, thinking he was playing hide-and-seek, but I couldn't find him anywhere."

Kathy's words were interrupted for a moment by hiccupping sobs. Drawing a deep, shaky breath, she eventually continued. "Then I thought maybe, for some reason, you had come to get him. You have a key that would have gotten you in. I thought maybe you just forgot to lock the door behind you. I've been calling you for hours both at home and on your cell. Where the hell have you been and why aren't you answering my calls?"

Anger ruled over Kathy's features for only an instant before being replaced with devastation. She once again fell into him, her salty tears staining the delicate fabric of his suit jacket, her arms tightening like a boa constrictor around him. Suddenly sweating, Elliot felt suffocated by her clinginess, eager to have his own space. He couldn't think clearly with her leeching onto him.

"Kathy, I would never just take Eli without telling you first. Are you sure he didn't just wander off?" Elliot searched frantically for any explanation other than the terrifying possibility before him.

"The doors were all locked and the child-proof door guards were on, El," Kathy whimpered, clutching his jacket in her fists. "He couldn't have. God, he's only four. He's so helpless. If I would have known for sure you didn't have him, I would have contacted the police earlier. We could have looked through the house for him together in half the time. Now he could be miles away already. Why didn't you answer your damn phone?"

Struggling to answer, Elliot's mind wandered fleetingly to his cell, tossed carelessly onto the floor last night. Thanks to this morning's lousy start, he had forgotten it, still lying mutely under the stool in Olivia's kitchen.

"I'm sorry Kath." Finally finding his voice, ragged though it was, Elliot hugged her lightly while his mind raced a mile a minute. "My phones were off last night, and I forgot my cell this morning."

"What's going on?"

Out of nowhere, Olivia's voice suddenly floated through the air. Her tone was strained and she had an odd look on her face as she absorbed Elliot embracing his ex-wife in the middle of the precinct floor.

"Eli's missing. Kathy thinks he may have been kidnapped. " Elliot's voice sounded foreign and empty, even to him.

In an instant, the look on Olivia's face changed from hesitant uncertainty to horror. "Oh my God. Eli." Looking woozy, her face returned to that unhealthy shade of green he had seen earlier at her apartment. Feeling weak, Olivia sat down on the closest desk. The defined corner poked into the fleshy part of her thigh uncomfortably, but she barely noticed. "Has there been a ransom demand?"

"No," Cragen spoke up for the first time, his voice and expression steady but strained as he started pacing back and forth. "If he was kidnapped, there has been no contact from the kidnapper yet. We have a forensics unit out at the house gathering evidence and uniforms have just started a canvass. CSU should be back shortly with their findings. Thanks to the storm last night there weren't any visible footprints – Eli's or a kidnapper's. We don't have much to go on, but the clock's ticking folks. We all know the statistics. Fin, Munch, follow up with CSU. See if they have found anything we can use. Benson, you get out to the scene."

"I'm going too." Elliot released Kathy and stepped back, his mouth set in a grim line as the shock started to fade to determination. Moving quickly past Olivia, he strode over to his desk to grab his coat.

"Elliot, you're too close to this." Cragen spoke gently but firmly as he trailed after him. "Stay here with Kathy. Go over what happened last night and this morning again. Maybe you will be able to identify something out of the ordinary that will give us an edge."

"I, I can't." Elliot's voice may have been unsteady but his steel gray gaze was anything but. "I can't stay here Cap'n. This is my son. I have to get out there, I have to do something active. If I stay here, I . . ." Elliot let the rest of his thought die out with his voice. Hard as he tried to push away the personal aspect of the case and view it as an outsider, Elliot's heart squeezed painfully at the thought of his youngest child in the hands of a stranger. "I have to do something," he repeated, holding out his hands almost pleadingly.

Cragen sighed, running a weathered hand over his bald head. He knew forcing Elliot to stay under these circumstances would be akin to trying to dam a tsunami. "Fine." He looked pointedly at Olivia. "He's your responsibility. Keep an eye on him." Nodding, Olivia hauled herself to her feet and spun on her heels to leave, Elliot a short step behind her. Their feet rung hollowly on the patterned tile floor as they dashed to the elevator. Halfway there, Elliot passed Olivia and arrived at the silver door first, hitting the down arrow.

Glancing over her shoulder to be sure she was a safe distance from the squad room, Olivia reached into her pocket and removed Elliot's cell phone. Holding it in front of her body, she slipped it to him smoothly.

"You left this at my place," Olivia mumbled, keeping her eyes trained forward. Quickly, Elliot slipped the phone into his pocket and tried to smile at her, but it came out as a grimace. Eyes locked on the elevator's flashing red digital display, neither of them noticed a witness to the cell phone exchange.

"Thanks. I can't believe this is happening. It-"

"You bitch!" A blood-curdling shriek from behind them startled both Elliot and Olivia. Instinctively, they both whirled around, hands flying automatically to their holsters. Olivia didn't even have time to think about drawing her weapon however before she was greeted with a stiff shot to the jaw. Off guard and off balance, Olivia stumbled sideways but managed to stay on her feet, thanks in large part to her collision with the wall beside the elevator bank. She saw stars as her shoulder rammed against the unforgiving cement.

With rage in her red-rimmed eyes, Kathy advanced toward Olivia, sensing that she was off kilter and therefore at a disadvantage. Elliot reacted quickly, grabbing Kathy around the waist and yanking her away from Olivia roughly. "Kathy, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Jerking out of Elliot's grasp, Kathy gave him a hard shot to the chest with both of her palms. "You bastard. That's why you didn't answer your cell phone or home phone. You were with HER last night, weren't you?" Kathy's voice seemed to rise an octave with each syllable, a look of complete madness confounding her features. A group of gawkers had gathered around them, attracted like vultures by the sounds of anger and violence, but reluctant to step in. Their eyes flitted back and forth anxiously between the partners and Kathy.

"Kathy, you're upset. You're not thinking straight. Let's not do this right now. We need to focus on Eli. " Elliot's low voice was beseeching as he looked at his ex-wife, keeping his body between the two women although Olivia had already straightened back up and was far more steady.

"Go to hell Elliot! If you had been there for your family like you were supposed to, we wouldn't need to focus on Eli. You bastard." Kathy was shaking with anger, her eyes glossy and wild.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Elliot turned to Olivia. The professional in him was acutely aware that Kathy had just assaulted a police officer. "You want me to cuff her?"

Surprised by the question, Olivia looked first at him and then at Kathy before slowly shaking her head. She could taste rusty crimson blood in her mouth and felt a thin stream course down her chin like a river.

"No. It's okay. She's under an extreme amount of stress." Olivia waved the incident away, wiping the blood from her mouth onto the back of her hand. "Let's just go. The clock's ticking." The elevator signaled its arrival on the floor with a loud ding. Olivia and Elliot moved to get in, but Kathy wasn't giving up that easily. She trailed after them, shaking with anger and shock and rage and a slew of other unpleasant emotions. When she spoke next, her voice carried clearly and loudly through the air, fueled by fear and grief.

"Was it worth it Elliot? Maybe if you had answered your damn phone, we could have caught the kidnapper before he got too far with our son. Instead, you spent the night SCREWING YOUR PARTNER and now someone has Eli and we might never get him back!" Bursting into tears, Kathy stormed back into the squad room, pushing through the herd of gawkers. Without so much as a second glance at anyone, she ran straight into Cragen's office, slamming the door behind her so hard the glass pane quaked and shimmied. The squad room was dead silent as dozens of pairs of eyes watched her departure before slowly returning to the partners who still stood rooted to the spot by the open elevator door.

"Get back to work." Cragen's sharp tone catapulted all the onlookers back into action. As his staff scurried meekly back to work, he strode over to his two best detectives and pulled them into a small conference room just down from the elevator bank. When he turned to face them, his eyes were hard.

"We don't have time for this garbage. Don't lie to me detectives. Is it true?" Cragen glanced back and forth between them before sighing loudly. "Never mind. You don't need to say it. It's written all over your faces."

"Captain-" Elliot started, but Cragen held up a hand and silenced him.

"Shut up. I don't need to quote policy here. You both know what it is, and chose blatantly to disregard it. You also know that I have no choice now but to separate you." Staring down at his feet, Cragen blew out a calming breath before turning his eyes back to two people he loved like they were his own children. "Damn it. You should have just told me. We could have done this quietly, without a notation in your jackets."

As neither Olivia nor Elliot could say anything to defend themselves against the truth, they chose instead to hang their heads and avoid his eyes. Irritated, Cragen cracked his knuckles and glared at them.

"Olivia, go on to the scene. Elliot, head down to forensics and find Munch. Send him to meet Olivia at the scene. Tell Fin that you will be his new partner, starting right this second. We need to find Eli, and now. We'll talk about reassignment to different units once he's safe and sound."

Turning on his heels, shoulders stiff, Cragen marched out of the conference room and toward his office, shoring himself up to deal with a distraught Kathy who sat crying in one of his plush visitor's chairs. The detectives watched him go before turning to look at each other. Feeling numb, Elliot reached out and gently touched Olivia's soft cheek.

"I'm sorry love. I didn't want it to come out this way," Elliot whispered before turning and disappearing from the office. A second later, Olivia heard the metallic clang of the door that led to the stairs and the sound of his feet clattering heavily down the steps toward forensics. Placing both palms flat on the conference table, Olivia leaned forward and closed her eyes, trying to unscramble her jumbled thoughts.

It had all happened so fast. So suddenly.

Their partnership was officially over. Their secret was out.

But none of that mattered like she thought it would. Not now.

Eli was missing.


	12. Fear

**Chapter 12 – Fear**

For the first time in months, it wasn't the cold winter weather causing Olivia to shiver beneath her thick, well-insulated jacket.

No, it wasn't the weather at all. It was fear.

Unadulterated, unapologetic fear. Fear of the unfathomable.

A fear she had no idea was about to get far, far worse. And far, far more personal.

The CSU technicians had already picked up and left the neighborhood when Olivia eased the department-issue sedan to the curb in front of the Stabler residence. The snow plows had not yet made it to residential Queens, and the lousy tires of her vehicle had struggled through the thick snow all the way down the street, fishtailing around every corner. Parking the car smoothly, Olivia zipped her coat up as high as it would go against the chill and hopped out of the vehicle, eyes evaluating the area instinctively. Reaching the buried sidewalk required a leap over a significant snow bank, and Olivia groaned and cursed internally when she slipped and ended up with a boot full of snow. She could feel the icy sharp snow crystals biting at the naked skin of her leg and burning as they melted, soaking her sock.

The neighborhood was eerily quiet as she approached the house, slogging through a walkway overrun with snow. The fluffy precipitation muffled the bulk of the ambient noise and many of the residents had already headed into the city for work, oblivious to the emotional upheaval happening in the lives of their neighbors. Glancing briefly up the street, Olivia caught sight of the uniform blues of several canvassing NYPD officers, knocking on closed doors in the hope of speaking to residents. Judging from the speed at which they were moving from house to house, Olivia guessed they weren't having much luck. They were already more than halfway down the street and would soon be rounding a corner and out of her sight.

Stumbling through considerable snow drifts, Olivia's heart and mind were miles away. She fought hard to be objective as she scanned the scene, but she just couldn't pull her thoughts from Eli and Elliot. How frightened that poor little boy must be, plucked from his bed and all he knew by someone who in all likelihood was a complete stranger. Eli had carved a special place in Olivia's heart the second she held his tiny, sticky body in her arms in that ambulance. The thought of anything happening to him simultaneously infuriated and crushed her.

Her heart also throbbed painfully for Elliot. She could only imagine the anguish and helplessness he must be feeling, the questions and fears he must have. The nurturer in her longed to hold him, to envelop him in warmth, to comfort him, but Olivia knew at the moment he was beyond comfort. And he would continue to be unless . . . until . . . they found Eli alive.

If they didn't . . . well . . . there would be no comfort for him then. Ever. It would destroy him.

Stepping carefully on the icy porch, Olivia glanced up at the silent brick home before her, shivering absently. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she felt a nervous quiver flutter down her spine. Something felt . . . off, but she couldn't put her finger on what. Pushing that uncomfortable feeling aside as irrelevant and an unneeded hindrance, Olivia steeled herself to cross the threshold. Peeling away a piece of banana yellow crime scene tape on the door, she took note of a small notation left by a diligent CSU tech. Apparently both the door lock and the deadbolt had been tampered with and quite professionally. Both keyholes were covered in a thin coating of snow-white fingerprint dust but no prints were visible.

Wiping her sodden boots on the mat, Olivia entered the silent foyer of the Stabler home. Nostalgia washed through her as she paused for a moment, pulling off her gloves and shoving her knit hat into her pocket. Some of her fondest holiday memories had been formed in this house, back when Elliot was still married and he had been her partner only in the purest sense of the word. During those lonely years, Elliot had frequently invited her over for holiday dinners, knowing she had no one else to celebrate with. At first Olivia had stubbornly refused, but after she caved once she was hooked. The energy around the house during holidays was palpable, especially when the kids were young, and it had buoyed her weak spirits on more than one occasion. Despite her fear of being an intruder in the family, she had never felt anything but welcome and included. It was during those special holiday dinners that she had come to love Elliot's children as if they were her own.

Massaging her sore jaw and running a finger tenderly over her split lip, Olivia thought wryly that she would not be welcome here anymore.

Although she was completely alone in the house, Olivia found herself creeping from room to room, treading lightly on tiptoe for absolutely no logical reason. Her breathing and the occasional creak of a floorboard were the only audible sounds, creating a ghostly atmosphere in a house that was typically bright, warm, and hospitable. Olivia felt odd being in the house alone, especially since her relationship with Elliot had changed so drastically since his divorce. She noted with inappropriate curiosity that Kathy had left up many gold-framed pictures of Elliot, not just with the children, but also with herself.

Interesting, but not particularly surprising.

Slipping stealthily between rooms, Olivia made brief notations on her notepad, her seasoned eyes scanning the area efficiently for any clues to the crime. Spotting another strip of crime scene tape at the top of the stairs, she peeked into the first room after the landing and found it to be Eli's. The small bed was unmade and the blue walls were decorated with family pictures and posters of popular children's characters, including Winnie the Pooh, Nemo, and Diego. Stuffed animals spilled out from under the bed covers onto the floor and a small train set sat in pieces near the window. There were no obvious signs of a struggle. And thankfully no blood.

Olivia spent close to half an hour searching the room, rifling through drawers, tossing the covers off the small bed, and checking the window, desperate to find a clue somewhere. When nothing seemed out of place or out of the ordinary, she found herself quickly growing frustrated. With an impatient grunt, she brushed her hair back from her face and mentally urged Munch to hurry the hell up. The sooner he arrived, the sooner she could update him on her fruitless search and get back to the station. She was aching to see Elliot. If Cragen let the two of them anywhere near each other that was.

Sighing resignedly, Olivia slipped her notebook into the pocket of her winter jacket and gazed out Eli's window at the winter wonderland below. The thick pane of glass looked out over a generous backyard, surrounded on all sides by a high wooden fence and a thick privacy hedge she knew to be a beautiful emerald green in the summer. A swing set and slide sat half buried under a drift and the black metal top of the barbecue was barely visible under a heaping mound of snow.

Olivia was about to turn away when sudden movement in the hedges below caught her eye. It wasn't anything significant - nothing more than a rustle really - but it stood out in the stillness of that bright winter's day. Gripping the window ledge tightly, Olivia immediately felt her adrenaline surge and her investigative instincts kick in.

It was most likely just an animal, foraging for food. But it could be more. It could be Eli.

Perhaps he had just wandered off. Or perhaps the kidnapper had panicked for some reason and dumped him there, unconscious. Either way, he would be weak and frozen and in need of medical attention.

Or it could be something altogether different. It could be the kidnapper, returning to cover up a clue she had missed.

Regardless, the rustle required further investigation.

Olivia's heart thudded as she tried to slip back down the inside stairs quietly, treading lightly but quickly to minimize any noise that might warn whatever or whomever lurked in the hedge of her presence. Pulse pounding like a tribal drum, she shot out the door and took the granite front stairs two at a time, her muscles tensing and coiling in anticipation, her stomach pushing up against her throat.

Drawing her weapon smoothly, Olivia rounded a corner of the house, gun clutched tightly against her side and sights trained on the hedge. A bead of adrenaline-induced sweat trickled down her back despite the cold. Slowly, step-by-step, she drew away from the cover of the house, her senses on high alert, her breathing quick and ragged. Raising her gun, she leveled it at the snow-laced shrubbery, trying to move smoothly and quietly through the knee-deep drifts. The hedge remained motionless as she approached and for a second she wondered if she had imagined the original movement. Her dark eyes strained to catch sight of any color other than the pale green, brown, and white of the branches, eager for a clue as to what or who lay in wait.

When she was approximately three feet away, it happened.

A loud snapping noise filled the air and the hedge shook again, as if trembling in the cold. Olivia's finger flew instinctively to the gun's trigger and she squeezed it lightly in anticipation. "NYPD! Don't move!"

The scrawny cat that emerged appeared less than impressed with Olivia's credentials. It was a beautiful calico color, with bright green eyes that regarded Olivia warily, the hair on its back standing up ever so slightly. It must have decided quickly that she was no threat because, after a moment, it turned its back on her, bounding through the snow around the other side of the house.

Closing her eyes and sighing loudly, Olivia lowered her weapon, not sure whether to feel relieved, embarrassed, or frustrated. For the moment, she was just thankful she didn't have an audience; she would never live it down at the precinct if she had. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Olivia reached over and slipped her gun back in its holster, shaking her head and chuckling dryly.

Had the snow not muffled sound so effectively, Olivia would have heard his approach.

But it did.

And she didn't.

Before her brain consciously registered any pain, Olivia was on her hands and knees, kissing the icy snow. A blow to the back of her knee had brought her down, crumbling like a house of cards. Instinctively, Olivia reached back for her gun but her assailant was too fast, trapping her wrist in a gloved hand and twisting it expertly behind her. Pinning her hand to the small of her back with his weight, her assailant reached into her holster and jerked out the gun, tossing it beyond her reach with a thump. Gripping the back of her neck with large, strong hands, he forced Olivia's face down the rest of the way until she could feel the prickle of dead grass through the snow. As she suffocated in the fluff, her assailant grabbed her other wrist and whipped it around, pinning it beside its partner. She had barely registered the clink of handcuffs before he snapped them on.

Praying she had been mistaken for an intruder by an overzealous uniform, Olivia raised her head from the snow and tried to reason with her captor. "I'm a cop! NYPD! Special Victims Unit. My shield is in my right jacket pocket."

In response, a hand tangled in her hair and roughly shoved her head down again. She cried out reflexively in pain as the muscles in her shoulders and back strained against the handcuffs.

"I know who you are, Olivia."

Olivia froze at the sound of the soft male voice above her. The voice, it was familiar. She couldn't place it, but she recognized it. She had heard it before, somewhere. Struggling against the weight that pinned her down, she felt her strength draining rapidly. She may have been strong, but he had a weight and leverage advantage that was proving insurmountable. When she stilled, just for a moment to catch her breath, one gloved hand reached around to grab her forehead while the other clamped a thick, damp, musty cloth over her mouth and nose. A sickeningly sweet odor filled her lungs and she instinctively held her breath.

Ether.

Unfortunately, her assailant wasn't stupid. Realizing quickly that she was holding her breath, he grunted and shoved his knee down into the small of her back. Hard. Gasping in pain, Olivia was forced to expel a whoosh of breath and inhale the toxic substance on the rag. As soon as she was able, Olivia resumed her valiant fight, holding her breath intently again. Seeming to enjoy the little game now, her assailant jammed his knee into her back again, the bone of his kneecap gouging unapologetically into her spine. Once again, Olivia was forced to breathe. As she did, she felt an odd tingling sensation spread through her body and her sense of reality blurred. Was this really happening, or was it just a horrible dream?

After what felt like hours of futile struggling, Olivia saw black spots dancing in front of her eyes, mixing and blending with the tiny drops of red blood that fell on the snow from her re-aggravated split lip. The black dots started out small but quickly grew in size, as if a series of small black holes were expanding and morphing together to engulf her vision.

After about a minute, Olivia saw nothing.

Soon after that, she felt nothing.


	13. Real

**Chapter 13 - Real **

It was the headache that woke her.

Olivia had had bad headaches before. In fact, in the midst of stressful cases, headaches were often the rule rather than the exception. A headache in and of itself was nothing new.

But this was a headache of astronomical proportions.

It was the type of headache one might expect after having an air horn blown directly into the ear. To Olivia, it felt like someone had crammed her head into a vise and was slowly tightening it, inch-by-painstaking-inch. With each passing second, the pressure seemed to grow exponentially. Olivia wondered groggily if her brain, with nowhere else to go, would soon start leaking out her ears and nose. Her entire face throbbed. It was almost as if her delicate cheekbones were expanding and pulsing relentlessly against the restraining skin.

In short, it was excruciating.

Groaning, Olivia rolled slowly from her side to her stomach. Feeling extremely woozy, she went to reach over to her bedside table, where she knew a much desired bottle of extra strength Advil lay tucked inside. Eyes still firmly closed against the agony in her head, Olivia frowned when her arm disobeyed her and refused to budge. Exerting a little more effort, she tried again, annoyed to find her arm remained noncompliant. Angrily, she jerked it sharply.

Bad idea.

Olivia's shoulder screamed in protest and a jagged pain shot through her system, eradicating the fuzzy shroud that clouded her thinking. Only when the bothersome shroud lifted did Olivia feel the burn of the rope bindings that cut into her wrists and kept her arms locked behind her back. Only then did she register the stiffness and pain in her back and notice the frigidness of the concrete as it pressed against her painfully hot face.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

After several moments of intense (or at least as intense as Olivia could manage) concentration, it all started to drift back to her, piece by piece, like a jigsaw puzzle coming together. Eli. She remembered being at Kathy's house. There had been movement in the hedges. She had gone down to check it out. Something had jumped out. What was it again? A cat, yes a cat. The last thing she remembered was being face down in the snow, a knee gouging mercilessly into her back, a black-gloved hand holding a stinky rag over her nose and mouth. And then that soft, familiar voice before everything went black.

She knew all that.

The real question was, what had transpired since then?

Without removing her burning cheek from the soothingly cool concrete, Olivia slowly started to take stock of her physical condition. With effort, she was able to focus her attention on the varied sensations raging throughout her body. Her throbbing head commanded her awareness first. It must have weighed over two thousand pounds - even the _thought_ of lifting it was laughable. The air filtering in through her nose was musty and sat heavily in her constricted lungs. Breathing was a constant struggle. She had a stale taste in her mouth, as if she had spent hours breathing through it. She could feel gritty grime on her teeth, sucked in from the concrete beneath her. Her muscles ached as if she had just run a marathon. She noted idly that her arms must have been pinned behind her for some time now because her shoulders were blissfully starting to go numb.

Overall, she was not in good shape. Not good at all.

Straining her ears, Olivia searched for a clue to her whereabouts, but all she could hear was her own labored breathing, deafening in the otherwise complete silence. The atmosphere was heavy, as if she were stuck in a vacuum. No sound got in, no sound got out. She imagined it was akin to being buried alive. Without trying, Olivia knew that if she screamed, the hungry air would swallow the sound.

There would be no calling for help. Not from this prison.

Wincing in pain, Olivia rolled back onto her side, noting with relief that at least her legs were not tied. Using all the core strength she possessed, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, her back pinching warningly and her shoulders burning with the effort. Reluctantly, she took a deep breath and prepared herself.

It was time to open her eyes.

Olivia had been putting off opening her eyes, purposely stalling until the last possible minute. Because if she saw where she was, really absorbed her surroundings, it would make everything real. Far too real. When her eyes were closed, she could still pretend this was just a nightmare. There was still the chance she could wake up at any moment, wrapped in her lover's arms, safe and secure. Elliot was used to her nightmares and knew just how to soothe her afterwards. He would draw her close, let her burrow into him as far as she could, whisper in her ear that it was just a dream and that he loved her, and rub her back until she finally stopped trembling. He never fell back asleep until he knew she had.

He was a good man, her Elliot.

If this were just a dream, he would make it better.

But it wasn't just a dream. And Olivia knew it.

Even with her eyes open, all Olivia saw at first was darkness. For all intents and purposes, she may as well have been blindfolded as well as bound. She was surrounded on all sides by sinister shadows, shadows that crept and crawled and slithered. When her eyes finally adjusted, she noticed that there was a smidgen of light in the room, emitted by a tiny, low wattage bulb that swung lazily from a mount in the ceiling. It did nothing to cut through the black and, if anything, even darkened the alarming shadows. Olivia wondered briefly if she had been dropped down an inky well.

No, she had to be in a basement of some kind, but one that was well underground. A cellar maybe. There were no windows and no readily apparent entrance or exit. Olivia had lost all concept of time. She had arrived at Kathy's shortly after ten in the morning, but Lord only knew how long she had been unconscious. With the absence of light and environmental noise to help her generate theories, she felt as if she had been swallowed by a black hole and left floating in a dark limbo. All she knew was that she had to get out of wherever she was.

And fast.

Shifting her weight on the floor, Olivia moved to her knees and tried to push herself to her feet despite her raging headache. Even with her hands tied behind her back, she would feel much safer and much stronger if she were on her feet when her captor returned. If he returned. That voice . . . where had she heard it before?

Trying to stand was also a bad idea.

As soon as she put one foot flat on the floor, Olivia was hit with a wave of vertigo and her stomach flipped wildly. Snapping her eyes shut again, she sat back down heavily, the cold, uneven ground biting into her skin through her pants. She felt a familiar burn start advancing from low in her stomach, forcing its way up through her esophagus. She tried to block it, tried her damndest to keep it down, tightening her throat and whispering "No, no, no, no, no, no" defiantly, but her nausea would not be denied.

Leaning over, Olivia threw up on the floor, groaning at the scalding burn of stomach acids eating away at the lining of her throat and mouth. She hadn't had much to eat that morning and had already thrown up once earlier, so there wasn't much to remove from her system other than clear bile. Still, the ether she inhaled had predictably upset her stomach. The act of throwing up was like sticking an ice pick into her ear, the tip piercing her brain and worsening a headache that was already off the charts. Dry heaving, Olivia tightened her abdominal muscles against the pain and forced herself not to cry.

Elliot. Even through the agony he was all she could think of. Would she ever see him again?

Her body spent, Olivia gently slipped back over onto her side and lay still, fighting the creeping sense of helplessness threatening her resolve. She tried to convince herself that she would feel better if she could rest just a little more, if she could get rid of the massive headache. Then she could think clearly, could formulate a plan. Closing her eyes, Olivia tried to dissociate herself from the pain that was starting to rule her body. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she willed herself to sleep. Just for a while.

A sob pierced the still silence.

At least it sounded like a sob.

Laying motionless on the floor, Olivia strained her ears, listening intently for another sound. At first, there was just that damned heavy silence. And then, she heard it again. Definitely a sob.

She wasn't alone in this hellhole.

"Who's there?" Olivia called out warily, drawing herself back into a seated position and tensing her muscles instinctively. She had no idea whether she was joined in this dungeon by friend or foe. She had already let her guard down once today and paid the price - she wasn't about to let it happen again. Her deep hazel eyes scanned the darkness but saw nothing. The milky white light illuminated little but a small circular patch in the centre of the room; her company must have been lurking outside that light.

Her question was met a moment later with another sob, louder this time. Olivia felt herself softening, sensing that whoever was down here with her was as scared as she was. If not more so.

Sitting up straighter, Olivia turned to look in the direction of the sobs. Seeing nothing but shadows, she reached out with her voice.

Clearing her throat, Olivia whispered softly "My name is Olivia. It's okay. I won't hurt you." At the mention of her name, the sobbing stopped abruptly and was replaced by shuffling. Gradually, a small face appeared in the dim light, disembodied in the darkness, its features bathed in shadow. It shocked Olivia, although it shouldn't have.

"Livia?" A soft, young voice floated in the darkness. She could hear hesitant fear dancing very close to the surface.

Closing her eyes in relief, Olivia blew out an extended breath. "Thank God. Eli."

* * *

It was official.

Elliot's world had been turned upside down.

First Eli. Now Olivia. Missing.

The call from Munch had come into the precinct four hours ago. He had shown up at the Stabler residence as ordered to discover that Olivia was nowhere to be found. At first, Munch hadn't worried. The department-issue sedan sat patiently by the curb and the house's front door was unlocked and slightly ajar, so he erroneously assumed she hadn't gone far. He had waited impatiently for awhile, deciding she must have gone off to talk to the neighbors. He had grumbled to himself at the time, irritated she hadn't waited for him, and then gone to check out the house.

An hour later, Olivia still hadn't appeared. After calling her cell three times with no luck reaching her, Munch had started to worry and called the precinct looking for her.

Cragen had warned his concerned detectives not to jump to conclusions, suggesting Olivia may have just been following up on a lead. From the tight expression on his face however, he didn't appear convinced of that himself.

Regardless of what Cragen said, Elliot knew better.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Immediately after talking to Munch, Elliot had tried to reach Olivia five times in the span of about two minutes. All he got was her voicemail. She would have answered her cell phone if she had saw it was Elliot calling, he knew she would have. She may have ignored Munch's call if she was busy with a witness, but she would not have ignored Elliot's. She also would not have left the door open and unlocked. She was too courteous for that, no matter how pissed she might be at Kathy. But above all else, Olivia would not have dropped off the radar for this long without letting someone know where she was.

She would know Elliot would worry.

The sky had clouded over in Queens as Elliot stood somberly beside a NYPD cruiser. Shivering, he leaned against the metal frame and stared absently up at his old house. The bright sun that had dominated the sky for most of the morning had gone into hiding, and the temperature had subsequently dropped ten degrees. If Elliot had not already been numb inside, he would have felt the cold more. He had left his gloves and hat at the station in his hurry to get down to the scene.

To Elliot's eyes, his old house looked menacing against the overcast winter sky. The two upstairs windows glared down at him and the door gaped open like a hungry mouth, swallowing and then spitting back out uniformed officers. Elliot stood silently outside, watching the activity, his hands shoved in his pockets. He felt nothing but a gnawing emptiness inside and recognized that for what it was - a symptom of shock.

Two people Elliot loved more than anything in the world were missing. That was no coincidence. And he was powerless. When he first arrived, he had torn the house apart looking for clues, but found nothing. Now, he just . . . stood, because that was all he could think to do. His initial rush of adrenaline at learning of Olivia's disappearance had faded, leaving mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion in its wake.

A path had been carved in the snow beside the house. It looked like several people had gone into the backyard at some point. One or more may have walked out. It was hard to tell. There were definite signs of a struggle back there, imprinted in the freshly fallen snow. Elliot hadn't actually seen the scene for himself, he just knew this from bits and pieces of conversations he heard floating through the air. No one had come to talk to him directly, not yet. In fact, most of his colleagues on scene had been studiously avoiding him, murmuring amongst each other as they walked past, watching him out of the corner of their eyes. He knew what they were waiting for – a patented Stabler explosion. He would have expected the same thing if he was them. But this time, he didn't have it in him.

Elliot watched idly as Fin Tutuola emerged from around the side of the house, a grim look on his solemn face. Unlike the rest of the officers who milled about the scene, he wasn't afraid to approach Elliot. When Fin caught sight of him standing there, he headed directly over, something small and dark clutched in his hand.

"Tell me you don't recognize this." Fin held out a small black device, his voice almost pleading. Elliot looked at it blankly and only very briefly, refusing to remove it from Fin's outstretched hand or examine it too closely.

Touching it would make it real.

"It's Olivia's cell phone." Elliot's voice was flat and without affect. Fin winced as his suspicions were confirmed.

"It's been out in the snow too long. It's fried. We can't turn it on. Not that it would probably help much anyway, unless she happened to call her kidnapper." Fin looked at his partner carefully for a moment, his breath steaming in the cold winter air. He couldn't be sure, but he imagined the strain on Elliot's face was also mirrored on his own.

"You find anything else back there?" Elliot asked the question even though he didn't necessarily want the answer.

When Fin hesitated, Elliot knew he had. And that it wasn't good.

"Come on Fin. Out with it."

Sighing, Fin shoved his gloved hands into his pockets. "There was some blood." Elliot closed his eyes briefly and Fin watched his friend's face turn to stone as he hurriedly continued. "Not a lot though. No one bled out back there, if that's what you're thinking. And no blood trail anywhere else either. She probably wasn't bleeding that bad. If it even is her blood."

"He could have wrapped her in something that soaked up the blood."

"We don't know that."

"We can't rule it out either."

"Well, whoever it was took care to cover up the blood. He kicked a considerable amount of snow over it. Only reason we even saw it is because some newbie accidently stepped in it." Fin shook his head in annoyance.

Idly, Elliot finally took the phone out of Fin's still outstretched hand, turning it around slowly between his fingers and rubbing his thumb over the smooth, shiny black casing. Fin could see in Elliot's face a frightening array of emotions, from shock, to grief, to despair, to fear, to rage.

"Elliot man, we'll find them."

Elliot looked at Fin momentarily before tucking the cell phone into his pocket and yanking open the waiting cruiser's door.

"I hope so."


	14. Twisted

**Chapter 14 – Twisted **

When he came down into the cellar for the first time, Olivia was dozing fitfully.

A significant amount of time had passed since she and Eli had been dropped into the pit they now called home. How much time exactly, Olivia had no idea. But time nevertheless. Her internal clock had been disrupted, thrown out of whack by the after effects of the ether and the perpetual darkness engulfing them. So when she felt the call of sleep nipping at the back of her eyes, Olivia had no idea if it really was nighttime or if her body just didn't know what else to do.

Regardless, she was tired. More than tired. Exhausted. But she fought it. Sleep was a luxury she could not afford.

She needed to stay alert.

As Olivia sat slumped back against a cold cinderblock wall of their prison, she was aware of a sense of unease that had begun building some time ago. Drowsily, her fingers traced meaningless symbols on the gritty wall as her mind churned sluggishly, weighed down by the enormity of recent events. Even half awake, she was still coherent enough to notice that they had yet to meet their captor.

And that was not a good sign.

Whether Olivia relished the idea or not, they needed him. Were dependent on him. Although she was not looking forward to meeting the weasel face-to-face, his absence also meant the absence of food and water. Eli's stomach had been growling for hours and her own mouth felt drier than the desert, still tinged with the unpleasant tang of vomit.

Death by dehydration was not the way Olivia wanted to go.

Occasionally, Olivia's head would nod forward, her chin dropping to her chest and her eyes drooping closed, but the constant throb of pain in her muscles made anything more than a light doze difficult to achieve. Eli had not left her side since they had reunited, and now he lay quietly on his side, head resting in her lap. It was too dark in the hole for Olivia to know for sure, but based on his steady, even, deep breathing, she assumed he had fallen asleep. Leaning forward, ignoring the painful tug in her back, Olivia softly kissed the side of his head before straightening again and returning her upper back to the wall.

In an effort to stay alert, Olivia allowed the few details she knew about their unfortunate circumstances to run roughshod in her brain, praying a brilliant escape plan would manifest itself.

Once her headache had diminished and she was able to stand, Olivia had explored their murky prison carefully. Walking backward and sideways, she had blindly felt her way along each of the four walls, searching frantically for a seam in the concrete that would indicate the existence of a door. Relief had flooded through her when her fingertips finally did brush over rusty metal, but that relief was short-lived. She had desperately grabbed for a door knob, only to discover that it had been removed and a metal plate soldered in its place. She had even thrown a shoulder into the door half-heartedly, knowing it likely wouldn't budge. Sure enough, all she got for her efforts was a searing pain that shot from her collarbone all the way down to her hand.

So close, and yet so far.

In lieu of an escape route, Olivia had turned her attention to locating something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. Her gun had vanished, either left in the snow or pilfered by her captor, the latter a frightening thought all on its own. Her coat, cell phone, shield, and wallet were also missing in action. No matter how hard she tried however, she could find nothing that would defend them if their captor returned. All Olivia had managed to stumble across, literally, was a mattress that sat stoically on the floor in a corner. It wasn't a weapon, but it was a welcome addition to the room. The foam was stiff and lumpy due to the pervasive cold, but it was still far preferable to curling up on the uneven concrete floor.

Olivia jolted wide awake again when she felt Eli shift, burrowing closer, his face pressing lightly into her stomach. She could feel him trembling through his thin pajamas and she leaned over slightly in response, trying to transfer some of her non-existent body heat to his small frame. She wasn't much help. The cold had settled into her bones long ago with a dull ache.

It was a blessing that the young boy remembered very little of what had happened to him. He recalled waking up to a noise and finding a tall man looming over him. At first, in his drowsy state, he had thought it was Elliot, but when the ether-soaked rag clamped over his face, his momentary excitement had been replaced by a blast of fear. He wasn't able to provide much of a description of his abductor, noting only that he was big, "like a wrestler" and wore glasses. He hadn't spoken and when Eli woke next, he had found himself alone in the cellar, arms bound behind his back. Recounting the story, Eli had sobbed unabashedly and begged for his mother and father. It broke Olivia's heart to see him so distressed and she prayed that she would soon be able to grant his wish.

As she attempted to comfort him the best she could, an all-encompassing flood of maternal instinct nearly bowled her over. Her skyrocketing desire to keep him safe from all harm was equally as overwhelming as her fear she wouldn't be able to. At least at this point he was relatively unharmed.

Now she just had to keep him that way.

Far easier said than done.

Despite her best efforts, Olivia must have eventually fallen into a restless slumber, because when he entered the cellar, the light woke her.

In reality the light probably wasn't all that bright, but compared to the pitch black she had grown accustomed to, it was like having a spotlight shone in her eyes. Groaning, Olivia tried to raise an arm to her eyes to block it, remembering belatedly that her arms were currently of no use. Her lower back screamed a painful reminder of this fact and, for a long second, stars danced amongst the spots in front of her eyes. Slowly, Olivia cracked open one eye and squinted into the light, temporarily blinded. All she could make out was a hulking shadow that lumbered their way. Her heart began to race and her body tensed in response to the blurry threat.

In her lap, Eli stirred and whimpered in fear.

"It's okay," Olivia whispered automatically, her dark, defiant eyes trained on the shape approaching them as her fists clenched behind her back. If she was going down, it wouldn't be without a fight.

When her eyes finally adjusted, Olivia knew instantly where she had heard his voice before.

It was the man from the pharmacy. The one who had blushed and stammered when she complimented him. The one who told her she was beautiful. At the time, she had found it cute.

How ironic, Olivia thought grimly, that she had been flirting with her future kidnapper.

Some detective she was.

Eli's description of their captor, though vague, was accurate and fit with what Olivia remembered from the pharmacy. He was an all-over big man, a bit taller than Elliot but not nearly as fit. Where Elliot had muscle, their captor had undefined bulk. In the halo of light, Olivia could see a receding thatch of dark hair on his head and an equally dark scruffy beard that stood out like a neon sign against his pale skin. His wire-rimmed glasses sat partway down his nose as he approached them, his dark, beady eyes locked on her insolent ones. Olivia guessed his age to be mid-twenties, but it was hard to tell with the soft features that comprised his baby face. At first glance, he appeared no more dangerous than a field mouse.

Until Olivia looked deeper into his eyes. Then she saw it. Something twisted. Something treacherous. Something evil.

When the man was maybe three feet away, he suddenly halted and gazed down at them, his bulk effectively blocking out the majority of the harsh light. In front of him, he held out a small flimsy silver tray, almost as a peace offering. While he struggled for something to say, Olivia took the opportunity to peek around him, eyes scanning for the source of the bright light. She spotted it quickly - an open door on the other side of the dungeon. Beyond that door lay a set of wooden stairs. Even though she had no idea where said stairs led to, Olivia felt a thrill of excitement. It was something. It could be a way out.

Mind reeling to come up with a viable plan on the spot, Olivia set out to distract her captor. Tightening her jaw, she glared up at him, determined not to be intimidated.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Olivia inquired bravely, drawing her knees up to pull Eli closer. He whimpered against her and she wished for the millionth time since arriving in the dungeon that her arms were free so she could wrap them around him. Inwardly she reminded herself to tread carefully, worried the man would take out any frustrations with her on the young boy.

Eyes never leaving her face, the big man slowly bent over and lowered the silver tray to the ground, sliding it toward them before straightening again and gaping down at her. When he spoke, his voice was the soft one she remembered, but this time she picked up on volatility she had previously missed.

"Baby, it's me. Elliot."

Olivia jolted visibly in surprise at his matter-of-fact answer, her blood running cold. Opening her mouth to respond, she was distracted by the disturbed glint that flashed in his eyes. Correcting him seemed both imprudent and downright dangerous as a faraway look washed over his features.

When Olivia closed her mouth and fell silent, Seth felt a thrill of power rush through him. Pointing down with his index finger and crouching before them, he motioned to the tray he had set on the ground. When Olivia's eyes automatically drifted that way, she noticed two sandwiches and two cups of clear liquid sitting good-naturedly on the shiny surface. Despite the fact that the bread looked unappealing and soggy with blood-red jam, Olivia's stomach betrayed her and rumbled loudly.

"I brought you some food." He appeared pleased with himself, as if he had done something unexpected and praise-worthy. "You should eat."

When she refused to move, Seth reached out and let the back of his fingers gently but unsteadily caress her cheek. Startled, Olivia jerked away as best she could while Eli sobbed quietly in her lap, terrified by the strange man's proximity. As if noticing Eli for the first time, Seth lowered his eyes and smiled at him fondly. Dropping his hand from Olivia's cheek, he gently stroked Eli's hair, evoking even louder cries.

"Get your hands off him," Olivia snapped, struggling against the bindings that held her wrists together tightly. She could feel the rope slicing into her skin and was not surprised when a trickle of blood ran down between her fingers. Watching her nervously, Seth slowly withdrew his hand, dropping it down to his knee for a moment before reaching out to grip her shoulder and still her struggle.

"Don't. You'll hurt yourself." Patting Olivia awkwardly on the shoulder, Seth stood back up, stretching and smiling contently at her.

"Why are you doing this?" Olivia blurted out, suddenly desperate to keep him distracted and in the room. While that door remained open, so did the opportunity for escape.

Cocking his head, Seth looked at her thoughtfully with his black, beady eyes. "I'm not doing anything. I just want what's rightfully mine. There's nothing wrong with that."

"You can't keep us here. People will notice that I'm missing. They'll come looking for me. I'm a cop." Olivia nodded down to Eli. "His father is a cop."

"Baby, why are you talking to me like that? I'm his father." The genuine confusion in Seth's voice and on his face was terrifying. In that instant, Olivia had no doubt that he believed everything he was saying. And that made him very, very dangerous. "Neither of you are missing. You're exactly where you should be. Safe at home. With me. Did you hit your head today at work or something?"

Irrational though it was, Olivia suddenly felt irate that this unbalanced man was treating her like she was the crazy one. She could feel her hands shaking behind her, but this time it wasn't with fear or cold. It was with rage.

"You should eat. You must be hungry." Gently Seth reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind Olivia's ear and letting his hand linger on her jaw line as he had seen Elliot do a million times before. Again, she ripped her head away, feeling anger bubble impotently in her blood. Despite her rejection, Seth was not deterred, leaning forward as she turned her head and kissing her exposed neck. She could feel him trembling as his lips brushed up and over her earlobe, licking it gently. Her stomach roiled in disgust and she fought the urge to head butt him, knowing that doing so could leave her temporarily stunned and Eli vulnerable.

She would never forgive herself if anything happened to Eli. And neither would Elliot.

Shuddering with pleasure, Seth stood up and headed for the door. Faced once again with the unpleasant prospect of being locked away in the dark, Olivia felt a wave of panic and made a choice.

In retrospect, it was a bad choice.

"How dare you?" Olivia was impressed with how strong and confident her voice sounded, because that was the total opposite of what she was really feeling. "How dare you pretend to be Elliot? Elliot is a good man. He would never do anything like this. He would never kidnap a child. You, you're just a monster."

Olivia's heart thudded violently in her chest as she watched Seth's posture change instantly, his shoulders tightening and his back stiffening rapidly. In a flash he had pivoted on his heels and advanced quickly toward them, covering the concrete floor with long strides. Instinctively Olivia curled up into a ball, trapping Eli's head between her legs and torso, wrapping her body around him protectively.

With a ridiculous amount of force, Seth lashed out at the silver tray sitting innocently on the ground, kicking it hard and sending it flying directly at Olivia. She ducked her head just in time to avoid the clanging silver missile, but could not evade one of the sandwiches, which smacked her dully in the side. She also felt a splash of water soak the long sleeve of her shirt and heard the clatter of the bouncing plastic cups on the ground to her right.

Tensing, Olivia waited for a physical blow that didn't come.

When she finally ventured to look up at Seth once more, the anger emanating from him was unmistakable. He was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring wildly and his dark eyes glittering perilously. His hands were balled into tight fists against his side, so rigid she could see his bright white knuckles even in the poor lighting.

When he spoke, Seth's voice was low and dangerous.

"You need to shut up," he said quietly, flexing his fists repeatedly to relieve some of the pressure. "That's why you are down here in the first place. You've been bad, both of you. You need to shut up and behave. If you don't, I will punish you. No one talks like that to Elliot Stabler. NO ONE!" The last two words were shouted and Olivia flinched reflexively, but there was no accompanying blow. Seth's hands remained pressed firmly into the side of his legs.

After a long moment, Seth's face suddenly relaxed and his hands loosened as if someone had flicked the switch to off. "Baby, if you behave, things will be better. Trust me. I won't need to hurt you. I will be able to untie you. Won't that feel nice? To have those ropes taken off? Then I can clean the cuts on your wrists properly. You know I'll take care of you. And my son. But only if you behave. If you continue to disrespect me, you will stay down here until the day you die."

Slowly, Seth crouched down beside her again. Olivia met his eyes as fearlessly as she could when he moved a hand up to touch her chin. Gently, he rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip before dropping his hand down further, letting it trace the contours of her arm and then her side before coming to rest on her thigh. Feeling Eli cowering against her in fear, Olivia fought to stay strong. She watched Seth's face with morbid curiosity as he stared intently down at his hand on her thigh, the fascination on his face twisted and disturbing. Softly he rubbed his big hand over her thigh, starting from the outside and then working his way in before looking back up at her. Olivia felt her body twitch involuntarily under his touch and Seth closed his eyes with something close to complete rapture on his face.

As he finally drew his hand away, a wide smile stretched the pale skin of Seth's face. When he spoke next, Olivia felt her entire body quiver with revulsion.

"And if you are good Baby, and I mean really, REALLY good to me, maybe I'll let you come upstairs and sleep in bed. With me."

* * *

Olivia's apartment was so quiet without her in it.

Too quiet. Glaringly quiet.

Try as he might, Elliot could not recall a time he had been in her apartment when she wasn't. For some reason, they usually gravitated toward his place at the end of the day. He liked to think it was because his place was larger and closer to the precinct, but in retrospect it may have been Olivia's way of maintaining some emotional distance, creating a sanctuary for herself that was not filled with reminders of him.

Elliot had no such place.

When he had eventually gone home last night, finally admitting to himself that he would be useless if he didn't at least try to sleep, he was immediately stricken by all the reminders of her that had taken root in his space. Her clothes and shoes in the closet. The last magazine she read, sitting abandoned on the coffee table. The smell of her shampoo on his pillow.

Needless to say, sleep did not come last night.

Now, a full day since Olivia and Eli's disappearance, Elliot stood blearily in the middle of her apartment, surveying the quiet space half-heartedly. The room stared back at him blankly, looking exactly the same as it had when he left it yesterday morning. The dishes were dry now, resting tranquilly in the dish drainer. Only two coffee cups remained in the sink, the rim of hers touching his in a gentle kiss. The cushions on the couch were slightly askew and the living room curtains were closed, blocking out the snow that Elliot knew lurked outside. On the far side of the room, the baseboard heating system crackled to life briefly before falling silent again.

Man was it quiet. Too quiet. On so many levels.

Still no contact from the kidnapper. Still no ransom demand.

Time was passing quickly, and with each second the likelihood of finding Olivia and Eli alive decreased.

Mindlessly, Elliot strolled over to the small side table that sat beside the front door and flipped through the mail Olivia had tossed there. Bills, a few credit card offers, flyers for local grocery stores. Nothing that offered any insight into why she was missing. Just like there had been nothing at Kathy's to suggest why Eli had been taken. There was only one thing Elliot knew for sure – they were both connected to him.

And Elliot didn't believe in coincidences.

The only room Elliot had not yet checked was the bathroom, so with a dejected sigh he crossed that threshold. He felt stupid rifling through Olivia's pill bottles and peeking under her vanity, but he was at a loss as to what to do next. All he knew was that he had to do something. Stopping was just not an option. He had tried last night. If he stopped again, the events of yesterday would really sink in.

And that would be both paralyzing and devastating.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary amongst Olivia's personal effects, Elliot perched tiredly on the rim of the bathtub, rubbing his temple with a shaking hand. Maybe Cragen was right. Maybe he did need to step away from this, let in a fresh, unbiased pair of eyes. Maybe he was too close to be any good. He didn't feel productive, that was for sure. Right now, he couldn't even believe this was happening to him. It couldn't be.

But it was.

Swallowing hard to keep tears at bay, Elliot's focus drifted back up to the gleaming white countertop of the vanity. His roaming eyes caught sight of a small white paper bag bearing the CVS Pharmacy logo that sat camouflaged behind a few bottles of lotion. Rubbing his neck, Elliot frowned lightly. He didn't remember seeing that there yesterday. Maybe someone had been in her apartment after all. Either that or Olivia had pulled it out after he left. Reaching over, Elliot drew the bag toward him and removed a small green and gold box out of the paper vessel. Scanning the glittery gold lettering at the top, Elliot's heart suddenly crashed down into his gut.

A pregnancy test.

Numbly, Elliot peeled back the already opened side tab and let the white stick tumble out into his hand face down. Slowly, he dropped the box back onto the vanity and flipped the pregnancy test over with trembling fingers. The result of the test glared blatantly up at him from the small white window.

Positive.

Olivia was pregnant.

Olivia and Eli's kidnapper held three precious lives in his hands and didn't even know it. Three lives that Elliot could not bear to see extinguished.

"I talked to the neighbors. No one saw anyone suspicious hanging around her apartment or the building." Fin suddenly appeared in the bathroom's doorway, his face reflecting the same exhaustion Elliot felt. Distracted by his discovery, Elliot glanced up in surprise. He hadn't even heard Fin return to the apartment.

When Elliot didn't immediately respond, Fin's eyes travelled down automatically to the item Elliot held in his hands. The shock registered too quickly for him to effectively hide it.

"Liv pregnant?" The question was gruff.

Elliot nodded slowly, placing the white stick onto the vanity with care. "Looks like it." He tried to sound nonchalant, as if he had been expecting this, but the unevenness of his voice gave him away.

Eventually Fin nodded too, leaning against the door frame and letting the subject drop. Dwelling on that little tidbit of knowledge would not help them focus on the task at hand. "You find anything in here?"

"No. Nothing out of the ordinary. No threatening letters. No indication of why someone would have taken her. In other words, exactly what we expected."

Fin knew instinctively what Elliot was thinking and shook his head fiercely. "We had to cover our bases. It's not your fault man."

Elliot rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Indirectly it is. It's too coincidental Fin. Both Eli and Olivia missing. No ransom demand. Someone targeted them to get at me. To hurt me." Elliot rolled his shoulders back with a grunt, trying to alleviate the tension that had taken up permanent residence there.

"Anyone you can think of that you may have pissed off recently?"

Elliot laughed humorlessly. "I'm sure there has been at least one person recently. It's what I do best. And you and I both know that going back, the list is a long one."

"Cragen's got Munch searching to see if any recent parolees have a connection to you."

"He shouldn't check just recently. This would have taken time to plan. Olivia wouldn't have gone easily. He would have had to prepare for a fight and then a quick escape." Standing up, Elliot left the bathroom and started pacing the living area as his mind cleared and his investigative side kicked into high gear.

Fin frowned, watching his partner roam the floor and rubbing his goatee thoughtfully. "It doesn't make sense Elliot. How could someone have taken Olivia to get back at you? How many people even knew about you and Liv? Munch and me didn't even know until yesterday morning, and we work with both of you every day."

Elliot paused in his pacing, running a hand absently over the smooth wood of Olivia's oak dining room table. "No one really I didn't think," he admitted. "One of my best friends. Maybe one of hers. But that's it. We weren't exactly advertising anything, at least not around people we knew. But we weren't actively hiding it either. We went out together sometimes as a couple." Taking a deep breath, Elliot resumed his pacing, his thoughts jumbling together.

"Had to have been someone who saw you together then, likely more than once to know Livia was important to you."

Elliot felt his breath quicken and he nodded his head faster. Some pieces were falling into place. He had caught a scent. "Had to be someone watching me." Stopping suddenly, he slammed a fist down on the table, rattling the dishes in Olivia's curio cabinet with the shockwave. "Dammit, and I didn't even notice."

"Don't beat yourself up about it man. You had no reason to be watching over your shoulder."

"I had every reason to be Fin. We all do. I'm living proof of that." Elliot shook his head angrily, cracking his knuckles once before catching himself. Olivia hated when he did that, said it would speed up the onset of arthritis. But it always made Eli laugh.

Eli . . . Olivia. . .

"Look, if he did this to get at you, he would want to see the results of his efforts. But there's been no ransom demand and no phone calls. So . . ." Fin raised his eyebrows expectantly, mentally urging his partner to follow this train of thought.

"So . . ." Elliot continued, feeling the light bulb snap on, "that must mean he's still watching me."

Fin nodded, a small smile of hope dancing on his lips.

"And if he's still watching you, we can set up a trap."


	15. Escape

**Chapter 15 – Escape**

They sat quietly on either side of the door, as motionless as patient sentries or protective gargoyles.

Waiting. And waiting.

Although Eli sat mere feet away on the opposite side of the metal door frame, Olivia could barely make out his small form in the pitch black of their prison. Not even his soft, springy blonde curls, bestowed to him genetically by his mother, were visible in the solid abyss. But Olivia knew he was there. She could sense him. She could hear his anxious breathing.

Poor kid. He was definitely going to need therapy. Hell, so was she.

If they lived to talk about it.

For the first time since their arrival, Olivia actually found the cool cinderblocks that encased their dreary habitat to be a God send. As she sat with her upper back pressed against the wall, the cinderblocks soothed her burning shoulder blades and calmed her pulsing fingertips. Her circulation was almost entirely cut off now from having her arms bound behind her back for so long. Soon, she would have no feeling in her hands at all.

While Olivia originally thought that would be a blessing, she was about to discover it was actually a curse.

"Elliot" hadn't returned for what seemed like hours. At some level, Olivia was extremely thankful for that. In the darkness, she shivered mechanically at the muscle memory of his eerie caress, at the remembrance of the exquisite pleasure on his face as he touched her. His dark, beady eyes were etched into her memory and the way he called himself Elliot with complete conviction sent a wave of chills up her spine. Olivia knew that underneath the soft voice and smooth babyface lay a ticking time bomb.

And time was not in their favor.

In other ways, their captor's continued absence was not a good thing. Neither Eli nor Olivia had eaten in a long time. After his explosion, "Elliot" had cheerfully cleaned up the mess on the floor, removing the sandwiches and now empty cups, whistling as he worked. Watching him putter about from her perch on the mattress, Olivia had cursed her impulsivity. Both she and Eli could have used the caloric fuel but no, Olivia had had to push him. They were weak now, hungry and dehydrated, and getting weaker by the minute. They needed to get the hell out of their murky prison while they could still stand.

Shifting slightly to ease the numbness in her backside, Olivia wondered idly what lay in wait for them outside their morbid cocoon. Even if they were to make it up those stairs, what would they find at the top? Would she immediately recognize the area and know where to go? Or would she be running blind? Were they still in New York? Were they still in the country? In the continent? Olivia wished vehemently for a window to the outside that would provide her with some answers. The real question was, would she like those answers?

For a woman used to being in control, Olivia found it extremely distressing to have her hands bound both literally and figuratively. Escape attempts would be so much simpler if she didn't have to worry about Eli getting hurt. Any action she took had consequences – consequences that would affect both of them. Whatever path she chose to follow, Eli had to be carefully figured in. He would slow her down, limit her options, and she had to factor that in to all decisions.

A random twinge in her belly reminded her sharply that Eli wasn't the only child at risk. Olivia had never thought getting pregnant was possible at her age, at least without a concentrated effort. Sure, she and Elliot didn't use protection but, with their hectic schedules, sex didn't happen nearly as often as they would like. She had never thought . . . but when her period was six weeks late, she had to check it out.

Sure enough.

She had wanted this for so long, and now she didn't know how to feel.

What would Elliot think?

Shaking her head, Olivia forced her mind away from that line of thought. She couldn't get caught up thinking about the baby. Or the baby's father. It would distract her from the task at hand.

Escape.

And so they waited. Quietly. Intently.

Olivia knew that their lone hope for freedom, short of tunneling out, was that big hulking metal door that sat embedded in the cinderblock wall. With no readily apparent way to open it from the inside, they were forced to wait until "Elliot" opened it from the outside. Then, only then, could they make a run for it. It was a simple yet risky plan she had devised, but any plan was preferable to sitting there helplessly, fearing the inevitable explosion.

It wasn't a solid plan by any means. Olivia would be the first to admit that. But, at this point, it was their only plan.

When she finally heard the telltale groan of feet on the wooden stairs, Olivia's heart thudded so loudly she feared it would give them away. Maneuvering herself into a crouch, Olivia motioned for Eli to do the same.

"Okay buddy," Olivia whispered, her voice hoarse as a trickle of adrenaline crept into her nerve endings, her solemn eyes trained on the door before them. "When I say the word, you run. Don't look back, no matter what happens. You go find help, okay?"

Eli nodded bravely, his pearly white teeth visible as he bit his bottom lip, his angelic young face strained. In that moment, Olivia saw Elliot's strength in him and her heart swelled with pride.

On the other side of the door, the sound of footfalls on creaky wooden stairs had given way to shuffling steps and the melodic jingle of keys. Holding her breath, Olivia tensed her muscles in anticipation and leaned slightly against the wall for balance.

It was now or never.

Seconds later, a key slid into a series of heavy locks and the bolts snapped backward. With her ear pressed against the door, Olivia could hear each one click as it withdrew into the metal. Once the last bolt had moved out of the way, the door vibrated and swung open cautiously. Seth heaved the heavy doorstop into place and advanced slowly into the room. The solid metal blocked Eli from view as planned, but had Seth turned his head to the right, he would have seen Olivia coiled and ready to strike.

Fortunately for her, he didn't turn.

In the light flooding down the stairs, Olivia watched Seth scan the room, squinting to hurry his eyes' adjustment to the dark, eager to spot his guests. Once he had moved a few steps beyond the door's threshold, Olivia sprung into action. Using one foot to propel herself off the concrete wall and boost her momentum, she ran at Seth like a rushing linebacker. Tucking her chin protectively into her chest, she threw all her weight at him, striking him hard in the lower back with her shoulder.

Surprised, Seth cried out and stumbled forward. The tray he clutched in his hands threw him off balance and he struggled to find his footing again. After several staggered steps, he tripped over the mattress Olivia had strategically pushed into the middle of the floor, just outside the ring of feeble light cast by the bare bulb. Seth sprawled forward, the tray crashing to the ground with a resounding clang, plastic bowls of cereal spilling and splashing onto the floor. Seth did not fall gracefully, hitting the ground so hard Olivia could hear his teeth chatter together. His impact with the unforgiving floor stole his breath and for a moment, it was all Seth could do just to inhale.

"Run!" Olivia barked the command, slamming on the brakes to halt her forward momentum. Immediately Eli darted out around the door and rocketed up the wooden stairs. Olivia sprinted after him, her lithe muscles working hard under her skin. She briefly considered moving the doorstop but knew instinctively it was heavy and would take too much time. She wanted to put as much distance between her and the monster as possible. Olivia barreled ahead, the wooden stairs groaning under her weight as she quickly closed the gap between her and Eli. The steps seemed to go on forever, but the higher they climbed the brighter the light got, and that motivated them to keep moving.

When Eli reached the top of the stairs he stopped abruptly, disoriented and uncertain, and Olivia nearly crashed directly into him. Swiveling her head, she quickly absorbed her surroundings, mind racing. They were in the middle of a small living area that hosted a large picture window. The light shining into the room through that beautiful window was blinding. Bright sunlight glinted off the wide expanse of pure white snow that unfurled before them. Where Olivia had hoped to spot help in the form of homes, buildings, and businesses, she saw nothing but trees and open fields. The wind whipped viciously outside despite the glaring sun, rattling the panes of the windows and kicking up sheets of snow.

They weren't in Kansas anymore Toto.

Hell, maybe they were. They sure weren't in Manhattan. Maybe not even in New York.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps racing up the stairs behind them reverberated off the thin walls.

"Go Eli!" Olivia prodded him urgently with one shoulder. "Run. And don't look back."

Obeying diligently, Eli took off in the direction of the green door that stood just outside the living area, his eyes wide and fearful. Olivia's long stride carried her past him and brought her to the door first. Spinning around so her back and hands were to the door, she fumbled briefly for the doorknob. Her fat, numb fingers struggled to grip the smooth copper and she strained all her muscles with the effort.

She didn't fumble long, but it was long enough.

Looking up, Olivia barely had time to catch the madness in Seth's eyes before she felt a broad hand grip her throat and heard Eli scream. She choked violently as Seth squeezed her larynx until she couldn't breathe and her knees weakened. With one strong hand he dragged her away from the door and pushed her roughly into the front foyer closet, slamming the door behind her and locking it. As she fell face first into a pile of smelly boots, Olivia heard Eli's screams intensify as he struggled with their captor. Rolling onto her back, Olivia lashed out at the closet door, kicking hard, but it didn't budge.

"Don't hurt him!" Olivia yelled loudly, her words muffled through the thick closet door. Olivia strained her ears, listening helplessly to the sound of the struggle outside until it grew faint and then stopped altogether. In anger and frustration, she kicked at the door again, the heel of her winter boot thudding hollowly against the wood. She kept kicking until her leg throbbed and pins and needles spread up her thigh.

Anything to distract him from Eli.

When he jerked the closet door back open, Seth's face was stormy with rage. His mouth was set in a thin line as he glared at her, hands on his hips. Reaching down, he grabbed one of her ankles with his big paw and jerked her hard out of the closet. Olivia struggled but couldn't rip her foot out of his firm grasp.

Grunting, Seth literally dragged her through the living area. Olivia felt the carpet burn her skin through her clothing and raised her head a little to prevent it from bouncing against the floor. She prayed he would let her stand when they got to the stairs, but her prayers were not answered. Seth stormed down the thin wooden planks two at a time, dragging her with him like a rag doll. Olivia felt the ground fall away beneath her and she gasped when the edge of the first step jabbed into her spine. Tucking her chin into her chest, she rolled onto her side to soften the blow of each step as he dragged her like a caveman back into purgatory.

Olivia was proud of herself for not screaming, crying, or begging. She would be damned if she would give him that satisfaction.

With one final hard pull, Seth drew Olivia back to the base of the stairs before dropping her leg unceremoniously to the ground with a thud.

"On your knees. Now." Seth's voice was low and harsh as he glowered over her. When Olivia didn't move quickly enough, partly because she didn't want to obey and partly because she was too winded to think straight, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up into the desired position. Images of Sealview ran rampant through her mind, but Olivia pushed them away. Now was not the time for her PTSD to rear its ugly head. Once she was in position, Seth stood over her, breathing heavy, spittle gathering in the corners of his mouth. Olivia lowered her gaze to the ground, trying to look appropriately submissive. Maybe if she played along a bit . . .

Reaching down, Seth grabbed her chin and forced her to look back up at him, his fingers crushing her jaw until she winced.

"If you move, I'll kill the boy. You got it?" Seth's voice was rough and terrible. Mutely, Olivia nodded before ripping her face away. Seth strode off and when she heard the sound of his feet leave the stairs above her, Olivia sank back onto her haunches. She listened intently for Eli, but heard nothing. He hadn't been returned to the dungeon in so far as she could tell. So where the hell was he?

They had taken a gamble and lost.

Now they would have to pay the piper.

A few minutes later, Seth thundered back down the stairs and Olivia raised back up to her knees, returning her gaze to the floor. Fear took root in her stomach as she wondered anxiously what he had planned for her. And for Eli.

She found out far too quickly.

"Lay on your stomach." Seth grunted the instructions but did not wait for her to comply, gripping the back of her neck with a calloused hand and pushing her down. Following his directions in the hope of lessening the punishment, Olivia pressed herself against the cold concrete floor at the base of the stairs and waited. She heard him fumbling for only a moment before he lowered a piece of smooth fabric over her eyes, blindfolding her skillfully. The material was soft, like silk against the skin of her face. A good quality necktie probably. Elliot had a lot of those.

Elliot . . .

Grabbing one of Olivia's legs and wrenching it away from the other, Seth wrapped a rope around her ankle. With force, he jerked that leg up until her knee was bent and then looped the free end of the rope around her bound wrists.

Jesus. He was hogtying her.

At least Olivia thought he was. But then he grabbed her free ankle and dragged her forcefully backward, scraping the sensitive skin of her stomach against the bumpy concrete. The scrapes smoldered painfully even after he stopped pulling a few feet later. Concentrating on her breathing, Olivia lay quiet, hoping that playing possum would help.

It didn't.

As Seth began talking, Olivia felt a chill rush through her at his madness.

"I don't understand why you had to go and do that. It was so unnecessary. You know I will take care of you. All I've ever done is take care of you like a man should. I've given you everything. And this is how you repay me. You're nothing but a witch. I ought to burn you at the stake."

Seth's voice was coarse as he lowered a burly hand to grab her free ankle and loop a rope tightly around it. Preparing herself mentally, Olivia waited for him to tug it up and complete the hogtie. She was surprised when he didn't, replacing her foot flat against the floor instead. She sensed him step over her and the rope went taut, as if he were standing just outside the door and maintaining just enough pressure on the rope to keep her ankle flat against the floor.

For what felt like forever, Olivia just lay there. She could feel Seth nearby, hear his breathing, but nothing was happening. Then finally, he spoke.

"I'm sorry I have to do this Baby."

Seth's voice was so quiet if the cellar hadn't been utterly silent, she wouldn't have heard it. Unbidden, tears of fear sprung to Olivia's eyes as she lay helplessly on the cold floor. Reflexively, she twitched the ankle that lay pinned against the ground, surprised when she felt it come into contact with something solid on one side. Olivia frowned, confused. And then it dawned on her. He had placed her foot strategically right in the door jam and was holding it there with the rope.

Her blood turned to ice at the knowledge of what was going to happen next.

Standing over her, watching the love of his life tremble on the ground, Seth felt so almighty that his entire body quaked with power. Although he knew deep down he should, he felt no remorse for what he was about to do.

She had brought it on herself. Trying to leave him like that. No one left Elliot Stabler. No one.

"This is going to hurt Baby," Seth whispered lovingly, tightening the rope and ensuring her ankle was securely resting in the door jam. "I didn't want to have to do this. But you gave me no choice. You shouldn't have tried to run away. Now I have to make it so you can't."

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Seth grabbed the heavy metal door in one hand, his other hand holding the rope taut so Olivia could not crawl forward into the dungeon. If she wiggled back toward him and the stairs, well, her leg would get the brunt of it. And that would work too.

Putting all his weight into it, Seth reared back and slammed the solid door closed. The sound of crunching bone echoed through the dingy cave and rang in Olivia's ears as her foot was caught between the door jam and the unforgiving metal. Olivia cried out in pain and tried to jerk her foot away as the door bounced back, but the pressure Seth applied kept her successfully trapped.

Gripping the door again, this time Seth grunted with exertion as he slammed it. The door whistled merrily as it sliced through the air. This time when it met her foot, there was an unmistakable crack and sharp pain shot all the way from Olivia's ankle up through her shin and thigh, racing like poison through her blood until it hit her brain and exploded in a shower of ominous stars.

This time she couldn't help it. This time, it didn't matter whether she wanted to give him the satisfaction or not.

Finally, to Seth's sinister pleasure, Olivia screamed.


	16. Fish

**Chapter 16 – Fish**

He dangled like a worm on a hook.

Waiting. Just waiting.

Praying for the big fish to start circling. For the agonizing anticipation to finally end.

But the fish didn't come.

The wide street was full of activity as Elliot stood outside the small neighborhood grocery store, a brown paper bag full of groceries balanced on one knee as he fumbled in his pocket for his keys, trying to look natural. His breath billowed out into a white cloud before him as he stalled, the tips of his ears burning fire engine red with cold. It was only mid-afternoon but the winter sun was already coasting toward the jagged Manhattan skyline, a dull orange fireball that reflected sharply off the towering glass buildings. The gray sidewalk was overrun with commuters and tourists and Elliot was on the receiving end of more than one dirty look as he dawdled in the middle, impeding the smooth flow of pedestrian traffic.

Not that he cared.

All Elliot was concerned with at that moment was stalling a little longer, delaying the inevitable trip back to his apartment. The longer he remained visible on the street, the longer his colleagues would have to spot their quarry - assuming Elliot was indeed being followed. And that was a big assumption. If he returned to his apartment, the infuriating game of cat and mouse would end for another day and wouldn't resume until the next. That was the last thing Elliot wanted. He wasn't yet ready to give up hope today.

It had been three days since they were taken.

Three long days with no contact. No phone call. No ransom demand. No indication at all that they were even still alive. But in the absence of evidence to the contrary, Elliot had to push on, had to assume they were.

Anything less was simply unacceptable.

A steady stinging burn had taken up residence in Elliot's gut, as if someone had shoved a rusty iron hook into his intestines and kept tugging up on it mercilessly. His entire world was in an excruciating limbo. Dangling. Waiting for that big fish to circle and move in for the kill. But the big fish was nowhere to be found.

Pretending to warm his nose with the sleeve of his dark coat, Elliot mumbled into the tiny radio transmitter sewn into the fabric there. "See anything?"

"Nothing." Fin's voice was tinny, crackling back through Elliot's earpiece. "Keep moving. If you're standing still, so is he probably. Makes him a hell of a lot harder to spot."

With a sigh of resignation Elliot reluctantly lumbered back toward his apartment, the bag of groceries heavy and unwieldy in his arms. If pressured, he doubted he could recall what he had bought. He had walked into the store blindly, going through the natural motions, selecting products from shelves and paying as he had millions of times before. But his heart hadn't been in it. The very idea of grocery shopping was ridiculous to him, and he had laughed without amusement when Munch originally suggested it. As if he had had any desire whatsoever to eat since Eli and Olivia had gone missing. Still, as Cragen had pointed out gently, they weren't about to spot anyone following him if he never left the precinct and was always obviously surrounded by other cops. He needed to get out, "alone", in public, but still under the watchful eyes of the half a dozen plainclothes detectives currently tailing him from various angles and distances within a two block radius.

And so, off to the grocery store Elliot had gone. But no fish.

The temperature had dropped eight degrees since the morning and a bitter wind drove up off the water. A cold weather alert had just been issued and Elliot absently noticed a number of churches gearing up to welcome the homeless. Stepping carefully to avoid the icy patches on the sidewalk, Elliot's thoughts were locked on his missing loved ones. Wherever they were, he prayed to God that they were warm and safe. That was all he would ask for, at least for now. Safe and warm.

Two blocks from his apartment, Fin's tinny voice drifted back into Elliot's ear, startling him out of his reverie. "I don't think he's following you right now man. We can't see anyone behaving suspiciously. It's gonna be dark soon. Go home. Get some sleep. We'll try again tomorrow." The tone of Fin's voice suggested he didn't think they would have much luck tomorrow either.

"No. Not yet," Elliot grunted back, desperate to stay outside and keep hope alive. He knew he couldn't wander the streets forever or risk raising the suspicions of anyone watching him, but the thought of returning to his apartment made him feel panicky. He had already spent too many sleepless nights alone there over the last week. As each stride pulled him closer to home, Elliot's mind whirled with all the things people think when faced with loss.

Why in the world had he allowed that fight with Olivia to go on for so long? Why hadn't he asked her to marry him yet when he knew she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with?

When was the last time he told Eli he loved him? Why hadn't he taken the time to actually sit down and play with his youngest son more often?

Life was too short. Now he might not get another chance to do any of those things ever again.

Feeling helpless and frustrated but not yet ready to throw in the towel, Elliot ducked into the small but hopping family-owned bakery around the corner from his building. Mind elsewhere, he barely noticed the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread permeating the air. Functioning on auto pilot, he purchased a still warm loaf of rye bread, handing his money robotically across the counter and grunting thanks to the young clerk when she passed him the product. The white paper package was soft and warm in his hands. Although he wasn't hungry, his stomach rumbled involuntarily at the innate knowledge that the bread was so fresh it would almost melt in his mouth.

Olivia loved fresh bread. It was a staple on those all too rare occasions when he actually did make her dinner. Without her hanging around his apartment, the delicious loaf would undoubtedly go to waste.

Feeling a telltale tightening in his chest, Elliot took a deep breath and squeezed back the tears that threatened his blue eyes. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the stuffy, crowded bakery, Elliot nodded brusquely to the polite clerk as she handed his change over the shiny silver counter. Turning abruptly to make a hasty exit, Elliot crashed headlong into another patron squeezing behind him. Elliot's bread hit the ground with a thump, paper bag crinkling in protest, and he cursed under his breath. Reaching down to nab the bread, Elliot failed to notice that the other patron was doing the same and they bumped heads in the process.

"Sorry man," Elliot grumbled in embarrassment, straightening and allowing the other man to snag the wayward bread. He ran a hand over the back of his neck to ease some of the tension there as the man stood up and passed him the errant loaf. "Thanks."

"Oh, it's no problem." The other man's voice was soft and light, a sharp contrast to his tall, burly build. Dark eyes peered at Elliot through wire-rimmed glasses, his baby face flushed with the cold. The man met Elliot's eyes for only a second before glancing away almost shyly. "Have a nice day."

Smiling weakly, the young man nodded once before moving away and melting into the crowd. Juggling the loaf of bread back into his arms, Elliot frowned slightly, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. Glancing around the bakery, he tried unsuccessfully to identify the source of his abrupt unease.

No one stared back.

Shaking his head in self-loathing, Elliot shoved the bread under his arm, took a deep breath, and cleared his mind. He had officially run out of ways to stall. It was time to go home, to his empty, lonely apartment, and pretend to sleep. Just as he was about to turn on his heels and head out the frosted glass door, Elliot caught a glimpse of a silver-plated cell phone sitting on the floor, tucked underneath the leg of the chair that accompanied the bistro table behind him. With a groan, Elliot realized it probably belonged to the man he had inadvertently bumped into, knocked loose in the collision. He didn't feel right just leaving it there after the man had been so polite to him.

Bending over to retrieve the phone, Elliot quickly glanced around the bakery but couldn't see the large, plain man anywhere. He had obviously left the stuffy, suffocating store swiftly. In an effort to catch him before he got too far, Elliot flew out of the bakery into the street, clutching the phone tightly in his hand. Twisting his head, he scanned the sidewalk left and right, eyes straining to catch sight of the mystery man. It took his sharp eagle eyes only a second to spot the man's dark coat, bobbing south down the street.

Hurrying after him, Elliot reached out with his voice to get the man's attention. "Hey!"

The noise of the street swallowed the call and the man kept walking, his broad shoulders hunched against the cold, the collar of his jacket flipped up. Elliot broke into a trot, dancing carefully over the icy sidewalk with a grace that belied his size, juggling his bags and gripping the cell phone firmly in his free hand. Other pedestrians glanced at him curiously as he skipped between them.

"Hey!"

Elliot tried again and this time got results. The tall man turned slightly and caught sight of Elliot jogging toward him. In that moment, Elliot clearly saw the stranger's face instantly drain of color, his jaw drop, and a flash of panic erupt in his eyes. Spinning back around, the man bolted down the crowded street, thrusting other pedestrians out of the way.

Shocked at the unexpected reaction, Elliot skidded to a stop, but only for a moment before instinct consumed him and he took off again at a full-fledged run. Praying Fin and the others were still watching him, Elliot didn't even bother to call out for help. He didn't want to waste precious oxygen that he could use to increase his speed. The other man had a good ten feet on Elliot, but he wasn't in great shape and Elliot was faster. The other man's legs pumped furiously as he pounded down the sidewalk, skipping between vehicles and darting down short alleys. Dropping his bag, Elliot pushed himself harder, his muscles screaming with the effort and his lungs constricting with each inhalation of arctic air.

Elliot would have caught up to him if it hadn't been for the ice.

Suddenly, the young stranger bolted slyly down a small side alleyway that led between a pair of monstrous buildings. Entire body straining, Elliot was so close that if he reached out, his fingertips could almost have brushed the soft material of the fleeing man's jacket. But as he turned to follow the man down the alley, Elliot's foot found the patch of black ice that the other man's had luckily missed. Elliot went down hard, landing squarely on his back and cracking his elbow solidly against the cement. The impact knocked the breath right out of him and he wheezed painfully, trying to suck in more oxygen.

Elliot wasn't down for long, but it was long enough.

By the time Elliot managed to haul himself to his feet, the other man had already begun scaling the chain link fence that blocked the end of the alley. When Elliot was halfway down the narrow corridor, the stranger tossed his legs over the top and disappeared down the other side. Still gasping for breath, Elliot tried valiantly to follow, but fortune was not smiling on him. He got his clothing snagged twice on protruding metal bits of the protective fence, which slowed him considerably. When he finally managed to pull himself up far enough to look over the fence, the other man was so far ahead Elliot couldn't even see him anymore.

The fish had disappeared back into the depths.

Fin and the plainclothes detectives met up with Elliot just as he stepped down off the fence, face bright red with cold and pain and frustration and exertion and anger.

"That him you think?" Bending at the waist to catch his breath, Fin glanced up at his partner's solemn face and wiped beads of sweat off his forehead.

In answer, Elliot strode over to a garbage can that stood beside the looming fence. Ripping off the metal lid, he smashed it brutally in anger against the red brick wall. The resounding clang reverberated loudly up and down the alley before filtering out into the streets.

Three blocks away, with his blood pounding wildly in his ears, Seth the fish didn't hear it.


	17. Almost

**Chapter 17 – Almost**

It was over, and she knew it. Had accepted it even.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. And finally acceptance. In the indeterminate number of hours that had passed since their botched escape attempt, Olivia had meandered through each of the stages of grief and had come to peace with it all.

She would never see Elliot again, would never gaze into his deep blue eyes or feel the gentle caress of his rough hands.

She would never hold her own child in her arms. The growing life in her abdomen could not possibly have survived the trauma that had been inflicted on her body – Olivia was barely surviving it herself. Even now, she felt empty, drained, robbed of the precious cargo she had been carrying for far too short a time. Although she had no way of knowing absolutely, Olivia was confident she had lost the baby sometime since being taken captive.

She would never have the chance to tell Elliot she was sorry for that.

She would never again feel the sun on her skin or the breeze in her hair.

She would never again laugh at one of Elliot's corny jokes or cry at a sad movie.

She would never again offer hope to a victim who had none. That was probably for the best though. Hope was a fleeting, vindictive, heartless bastard of an emotion.

It was over. And she knew it.

His cruelty had crippled her and ripped away any chance for escape. Her foot was broken, mangled, and with it her chances of living to see the end of this nightmare.

Now all Olivia wanted was to go peacefully, to drift off into a slumber from which she never woke. But that was not to be. Her body was determined to punish her, to make her suffer even in the last hours of her life. She floated in an abyss of pain, surrounded by darkness both literally and figuratively, unable to sever the thread that kept her clinging to life.

The only constant was pain. A lot of pain.

Olivia was reasonably sure she never actually lost consciousness because the pain never lessened. It came in ebbs and flows, easing away like the tide only to crash back in full force moments later. Every thought, every movement, every breath was infused with a pain that she could not escape.

It was as close to hell as she hoped to ever get.

"Olivia?" The word glided toward her as she lay motionless in the abyss, so soft it was almost inaudible. She ignored the voice at first – acknowledging it would require action, action she was not willing to take at this time. Unwilling and unable to focus, Olivia simply pretended the voice didn't exist. It was easier that way, easier to just drift about aimlessly in the darkness.

Until she heard the tears.

Deflecting words was easy – it took only very little effort to prevent words from dragging her mind back to her body. But something primal, instinctual, and very demanding inside of her responded to cries. It could have been a maternal thing or simply the result of working in her chosen career for many years. Regardless of the reason, tears had a power over her that words simply did not. The tears forced her floating mind to coast back to her prone body and grudgingly Olivia stirred.

As her mind rejoined her body, the pain intensified exponentially. Instead of a general sensation that ruled her body, it developed into something far more focused, raging and unforgiving. It radiated from her mangled foot all the way up through her shin and thigh, smoldering in her pelvis before shooting up into her abdomen and gnawing at her heart. Her back burnt, her shoulders were numb, and her hands felt like they were filled with lead.

Why hadn't he just killed her? Death would be far preferable to this.

Then again, maybe he knew that.

Maybe that was the point.

Slowly, through the pulsing agony in her ankle, Olivia became aware of the softness of the mattress beneath her but had no recollection of dragging herself over to it. The material was damp underneath her face, whether from tears or sweat she couldn't be sure. Her brutalized ankle hung over the edge, dangling crookedly, throbbing with a searing heat that would not dissipate. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't budge it, as if her ankle had severed itself from the control centre of her brain in protest.

Olivia was no stranger to pain, but she had never felt as sorry for herself as she did in that moment.

And then there it was again. A muffled sob.

Suddenly recalling her reason for stirring in the first place, Olivia cracked open an eye. Eli sat beside her on the mattress, his legs crossed in a typical child's pose, but the haunted expression on his face contained no innocence. It was the face of someone who had seen too much in too damn short a time. Tears coasted down his pale, round cheeks like forking rivers and his arms were crossed protectively over his abdomen as he looked down at her, his blue eyes wide and shiny. Olivia reflected not for the first time that he had inherited Elliot's beautiful eyes. Observing Eli's undue suffering was another sharp piece of painful shrapnel shoved into Olivia's abdomen.

In her haze of pain, Olivia couldn't recall hearing "Elliot" return Eli to the cellar, but she did vaguely remember the preceding struggle in the front foyer. Her gut constricted, imagining the horrors that poor boy had met while she lay, barely functional, on that damned mattress.

"Eli . . ." Olivia's voice was raspy from misuse, screaming, crying, or some combination of all three. She tried to push herself up onto an elbow but found her arms possessed no strength. The best she could do was to roll over onto her side. "Eli, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Eli shook his head, his now greasy blonde curls bobbing slickly. "No, he didn't hurt me. He kept me in another room and then took me out and made me sit at the table and eat dinner with him. He fed me and . . . I ate." Eli hung his head guiltily at the confession and Olivia heard his breath hiccup.

"Eli, that's okay," Olivia soothed, marshalling her strength until she could finally push herself slowly into a seated position. She winced involuntarily at the pain that raced through her body but quickly smothered it. Eli was frightened enough. "That's good. It's good that you ate. That's okay. You need to stay strong."

"But you haven't eaten, and I feel bad," Eli whimpered. Olivia felt her heart overflow with love for the little boy. Eli had inherited more than Elliot's eyes and strength – he was already demonstrating his father's compassion as well.

"It's okay sweetheart, really." Olivia kept her voice and eyes soft, wishing for the thousandth time she could free her arms to offer a comforting hug.

Eli shot her a wavering, tentative smile before his face clouded over in the dark room. "He told me I was supposed to call him Daddy. He said he was my daddy and I had to remember that. Olivia, I want my real daddy." Eli's bottom lip trembled and a new flood of tears followed the paths created by their predecessors.

"I know you do Eli. And I'm sure your daddy is missing you like crazy right now too."

"Then why hasn't he saved us?" The soft, tentative question incited such a wave of anger in Olivia that it almost drowned out the pain. Almost. How dare the man who took them now have Elliot's son questioning his father's abilities, his devotion. Just the thought made Olivia irate but she kept her voice low and level.

"I'm sure he's trying really hard Honey. And your daddy won't give up until he finds you. Remember that."

In that moment, Olivia vowed that although it may have been over for her, she would do everything in her power to ensure Eli got to see Elliot again. She might not be in a position to escape, but he still could be.

As Olivia's mind started whirling, a sharp lightning bolt of pain shot up from her fractured ankle and stole her breath. Gasping, she glanced down at the offending appendage and felt a wave of nausea flow through her. The sight wasn't unexpected, but it was still disgusting. Her one foot was swollen to five times the size of the other and it throbbed visibly through her sock. Blissfully "Elliot" had removed her boot; otherwise it likely would have been bursting at the seams. Groaning, Olivia elevated her foot as best she could, but even the sensation of her soft sock touching the skin was unbearable. Her foot was completely rigid and she knew without trying that putting weight on it would not be an option.

"Livia, are you okay?" Eli's eyes were round with fear as he looked down at her massive ankle.

"I'm okay Buddy," she lied, feeling her arms shake as she supported herself through the pain. Desperate for a distraction, Olivia asked "Can you tell me anything about the room he put you in Eli? Anything that might tell us who this man is?"

Suddenly Eli's face brightened and he nodded sharply. Twisting a little on the mattress, he began fumbling around behind him, his features contorted uncomfortably with the effort. "When I was waiting for him to come back, I tried to find a place to hide. I crawled under the desk and found this on the floor."

As Eli turned around, Olivia squinted down at his hands through the darkness. There, held precariously between his fingers, was a red Swiss Army knife.

"Oh Eli!" With a rush of pride, Olivia smiled widely at him. Eli smiled in return and a soft blush colored his cheeks. "You are so smart! How did you sneak it down here?"

"I hid it in my pocket while we ate dinner," Eli shared proudly, holding his small chin high.

"You are such a smart boy," Olivia praised, twisting around to take it from his hand. It was cool and smooth in her numb fingers and the plastic casing sent a shockwave of hope through her. If she could get enough feeling in her fingers to open it and find the knife, she could start to saw away at the ropes that held them at a disadvantage.

The sound of footfalls on creaky wooden steps made them both jump in fear, snapping their heads around to stare at the monstrous metallic door across the room. As the noise increased in intensity, a plan started to take shape in Olivia's bleary, pain-addled brain.

It wasn't a good plan. It wasn't even a pleasant plan. But it was a plan nonetheless.

Scooting back further on the mattress, Olivia motioned for Eli to crawl over next to her.

"Okay Eli," she whispered hurriedly, pressing her back against the cold wall and extending her legs out before her. "I'm going to need you to trust me, okay? I'm going to get us out of here. I'm going to get you back to your Mommy and Daddy. You just need to act normal no matter what happens, okay?" Eli looked at her warily, his face rife with uncertainty, but finally nodded and burrowed into her side.

The sound of heavy locks sliding into the door echoed throughout the room a second before a mellow yellow light cascaded in, forcing the two occupants to squint. When her eyes finally adjusted to the light and she was able to see "Elliot", Olivia knew immediately something was wrong. As he lumbered toward them his face was tight and his posture stiff. He locked his cold dark eyes on them, sitting placidly on the mattress, and began pacing the floor. As he paced he mumbled and Olivia felt a chill tickle her spine. Eli must have been equally unnerved by his odd behavior, because he snuggled tighter into her side. She lightly dropped a kiss on his head as she watched "Elliot" wear a hole in the floor, anxiety clear in every step.

"We need to leave."

When he finally did speak, Seth's voice was strained and he clasped his hands in front of him, wringing them together nervously. When his guests kept staring at him wordlessly, he continued, his eyes never leaving them. Despite the direction of his focus, he was talking more to himself. "He almost caught me. I was stupid. I took a risk. I got too close. Elliot almost caught me. And I dropped my phone. Yes, it's best we leave. We need to leave. Find another spot. A safer spot. Then everything will be perfect."

The unease sitting in Olivia's gut was momentarily doused by a splash of optimism as she absorbed his ramblings. He had made his first mistake, and Elliot had gotten close. And she knew Elliot. If he smelled blood, he would go in hard for the kill. He would be buoyed, driven to persevere by that near encounter. Help could be near, and if that was the case, Olivia sure as hell couldn't let him move them.

Not when their salvation might be right around the corner.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Olivia forced the pain as far from her consciousness as possible and tried to step outside herself. It was time to put her acting skills to the test.

Fixing her features into a look she prayed was the picture of innocence, Olivia gazed up at their captor with meek eyes.

"Baaaabbbbyyy," she whined slowly, drawing out the word until it sounded almost ridiculous. "My foot hurts."

Her plaintive words stopped Seth in his tracks and he stared down at her, his heart thudding loudly. He couldn't believe his ears. He had hoped . . . but so soon? She had actually spoken to him kindly, had called him "baby". How he had longed for this day. His throat drying out and his hands shaking, Seth slowly crouched down beside her, his eyes darting between her injured ankle and pale face.

"I know my love. I'm sorry." The soft, melodious way in which he spoke to her made Olivia's stomach churn, but she held it together with effort. "I had to. I had to teach you a lesson." Gently he reached out and stroked the back of his rough fingers down her cheek.

Nodding with fake eagerness, Olivia straightened a little and forced herself to nuzzle into the palm of his hand. "I know you did. I understand now. I deserved what I got."

Seth looked at her carefully, a slight frown dancing over his lips and furrowing his brow. He wanted to believe her, he really did. But the change was so abrupt, so sudden, so absolute. How could he be sure it was legitimate? Still, maybe she did learn a painful lesson. And her skin was so soft and she was so beautiful. Did anything else matter? Maybe she really was coming around.

"I don't want to have to do anything like that again," Seth whispered, running a finger over her bottom lip, his eyes darkening with desire. "Please don't make me. If you just behave, things will be a lot better."

"I will, I promise," Olivia whispered back, forcing herself to gaze deep into his eyes without cringing. "I learned my lesson. I will be good from now on. I'm not going to try to leave anymore. I love you Elliot."

It took all the strength Olivia had to finish that statement, and even after she had gotten it out, it still left a bad taste in her mouth.

If Olivia had been worried about how convincing she was, one look at Seth's face would have assuaged her fears. His eyes had filled with clear tears and his hands were trembling with happiness. His fingers quaked as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and let his hand drift down her arm, causing all the hair there to stand up on end even through her long-sleeve T-shirt. He cupped her elbow briefly before allowing his hand to travel down further, tracing the underside of her arm as he leaned into her, drawing his face closer to hers inch-by-inch. She was so focused on his proximity that she almost didn't realize until too late that his hand was still moving down, closer and closer to the ropes that bound her wrists and the Swiss Army knife she still clutched in her palm. The discovery of that little weapon would undoubtedly lead to an explosion of epic proportions. That left Olivia with only one option.

She needed to distract him. And quickly.

Steeling herself, Olivia leaned in and kissed Seth softly on the lips.

He was not an experienced kisser by any means, she could tell that right away. Instead of relaxing into the contact he stiffened, pressing his lips hard against hers with no finesse. He had no idea how to move his mouth and almost immediately went to shove his tongue down her throat. Olivia was forced to do most of the work, fighting back the desire to vomit the entire time, but she accomplished her end goal. The movement of his hand halted before it could come across the knife. He gripped her elbow roughly instead before reaching up to cup her face with shaking hands.

After Olivia broke the kiss, Seth kept his eyes closed for a moment, panting softly, his breath hot on her face. When he finally fluttered his eyes open, the whites had almost entirely disappeared, his pupils wide and dilated and his face dark with need. For a brief instant Olivia feared what she had just unleashed, but an urgent, nagging voice reminded her that she had no choice. Just as she had no choice about what she was going to do next.

Nuzzling her cheek into his hand, Olivia whispered softly "Take me upstairs. Please? I want to sleep in bed. With you."

As if launched from a cannon by her words, Seth shot to his feet and wiped his sweaty hands on the rough denim of his pants. It was here, the moment he had been waiting for since Olivia first took a starring role in Elliot's life. He was about to make love to Olivia Benson. The thought scared him and thrilled him simultaneously. Mentally he cajoled his hands to cease trembling, but they didn't listen. Gazing down at her intently, Seth tried to decipher her motives, still unsure if this sudden change in attitude was too good to be true. After only a moment, he gave up. He could tell little from her face and he was thinking more with other parts of his body anyway, which urged him not to dig too deep or risk losing this precious opportunity. Mind made up, Seth scooped her into his arms and cradled her against his body, taking great care not to bump her injured foot.

He was so intent on lifting her safely that he didn't notice Olivia mouth the words "Trust me" to Eli.

As Seth transported her effortlessly out of the cellar, Olivia focused on regulating her breathing. In and out. In and out. Her skin crawled at his touch, at the feel of his body against hers even through their clothing, but she knew she had to hold it together if her plan was to work. If she could convince him that she had changed, that she really did want to be with him, that she truly believed he was Elliot, maybe, just maybe, he would let his guard down.

Then maybe, just maybe, she had a prayer of getting Eli out of this hellhole.

As they left the cellar this time, Olivia made a focused attempt to analyze her surroundings, striving to commit to memory details that may be crucial for Eli's escape. With her system less flooded by adrenaline, she was able to scan the area more calmly this time and take mental notes. As he closed the solid metal door behind them, Olivia studied the three heavy duty bolts and one key lock that had held them captive. It would be impossible to escape from the cellar from the inside with those bolts in place. But if she could find a way to stay on the outside . . . When he locked the door behind them, Olivia tried frantically to memorize the appearance of the required key before he slipped his key ring back into his pocket, still balancing her carefully in his arms. She had to know what it looked like - there would be no time for fumbling. Every second would count.

When "Elliot" finally mounted the threshold of the stairs and carried her into the attached home, Olivia had a moment to appreciate how open and airy it was. The main room was large, one wall dominated by that beautiful picture window. It was dark outside, the sun having dipped below the horizon ages ago, but the reflection of the moon off the untainted white snow bathed the main room in an eerie blue glow. It was a beautiful sight. Had the situation been different, Olivia might even have enjoyed it.

As he walked, Seth clutched Olivia tightly against him, his breath coming fast and uneven. His eyes rarely left her face as he cradled her, barely able to believe his good fortune. He strode with purpose down the narrow main hallway that hosted three doors. The first door opened into a beautiful oak study filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stuffed to overflowing with literature and a fluffy white rug that protected the gleaming hardwood floor. The second room down the hall was the bathroom, the cream walls nicely complimenting luminous tile and polished fixtures. But it was the last door down the hall that Seth strode toward, his gait lengthening as he drew closer. The bedroom. As he carried her into that special room, he felt Olivia shiver with anticipation and he grew almost unbearably aroused.

He had to have her.

Glancing up at his glowing face, Olivia's stomach churned and she wondered with dread how far she would have to go to make this work. With her mangled foot and bound hands, she was almost completely at his mercy. Almost. The Swiss Army knife clutched in her closed fist gave her some strength. Still, he was at the advantage and she knew it.

Hopefully her acting skills were up to the test.

The first thing Olivia noticed about the bedroom was how beautifully decorated it was and how it didn't suit her captor at all. The room was frilly, feminine, with soft yellow curtains and a matching floral patterned bedspread. The furniture looked old and worn but in a priceless antique way and the room reeked of a professional decorator's touch. As he carried her effortlessly across the pastel green rug Olivia wondered briefly if this strange man had a woman in his life. It certainly looked like this room had been designed by and for a woman. If so, where was she? Was he hiding all of this from her? Or was she a willing accomplice?

Gently, Seth lay Olivia on the bed, cautious of her injured foot. Despite his best efforts, Olivia couldn't help but wince as it came into contact with the covers. Settling into the soft down pillows, she forced herself to meet his eyes with what she hoped was a submissive, trusting gaze as he stared down at her, a hungry look in his eyes. He eased himself down slowly beside her on the bed, leaning over her and supporting himself on his hand. When she maintained eye contact, Seth felt emboldened and reached over to brush the silky hair out of her face.

"You are so beautiful," Seth whispered, stroking her cheek softly, his fingertips lingering on her cheekbones as if to memorize them. He leaned over abruptly and closed his mouth on hers, far rougher and more demanding than the first time, but still with no skill. Olivia grimaced at the contact but tried to smooth out her features before he noticed. His mouth tasted stale and she had to fight the urge to gag as his tongue pried between her teeth and his foul flavor invaded her mouth. She attempted to force her mind to drift away from her body as it had earlier, to pretend it was the Elliot she loved kissing and touching her, but the sensations were so different that she couldn't. When that failed, she tried to dissociate herself from the whole experience instead.

Far easier said than done.

"We should make you more comfortable," Seth mumbled breathlessly when he finally broke the kiss. Slowly, painfully slowly, he reached down to her now filthy dress pants, letting a thick finger slip under the waistband and tickle her. Olivia shivered out of revulsion but Seth took it to be pleasure and quickly unbuttoned her pants and pulled down the zipper. She watched his eyes grow wider and his mouth gape open as he drew her pants down, revealing creamy caramel skin. Olivia wished vehemently that she had worn something more modest than her thin baby blue bikini briefs, especially when his fingertips stroked her abdomen absently, running lightly over the soft silk.

Closing her eyes tightly, Olivia reminded herself over and over again that this was her best chance to get Eli out safely. Maybe she could even stall long enough that Elliot might show up and save them both. A long shot, but still possible.

She could do it. She had to do it.

After permitting his eyes to roam her sexy lower half for a few minutes, Seth sighed deeply with pleasure and rolled her over onto her side. As he ran his hands down her arms, examining her wrists closely, Olivia prayed that none of her hidden weapon was visible through her clutched fingers.

"Oh Baby, your poor wrists. I really wish you wouldn't make me do this to you." Seth's voice was soft as fluff as he crouched over her, frowning slightly. "I'll be right back."

When "Elliot" disappeared from the room, Olivia allowed herself a brief sigh of relief, knowing she should enjoy the moment while it lasted. At this point she had no qualms about delaying the inevitable. Her swollen foot was on fire as it lay against the soft sheets and she felt extremely vulnerable on this stranger's bed in only her thin long sleeve T-shirt and panties. If she did ever see him again, Olivia prayed Elliot would forgive her for what she was about to do.

The reprieve was far too short-lived. Seth returned in mere moments, a sharp kitchen knife in one hand and an unidentifiable bottle in the other. Olivia's heart plummeted into her stomach as she eyed the sharp implement, trying to keep her bottom lip from quivering as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Baby . . ." Olivia whimpered, scooting back slowly on the bed to put distance between them, her wide eyes never leaving the shiny blade.

Sensing her fear, Seth smiled reassuringly.

"It's okay," he murmured, sitting back down beside her on the bed and dropping the brown bottle onto the side table. "I just want to free up your wrists for a second to clean them."

Grabbing the rope that bound her wrists, Seth carefully sawed through it. When the rope loosened and then finally fell away, the sensation of freedom and relief was so intense that Olivia almost forgot the agony in her foot. Almost. Letting her arms move gingerly to her sides but careful to keep her fists clenched, Olivia reveled in the painful pins and needles sensation that rushed into her veins, a huge improvement over the aching numbness that had preceded it. It made Olivia feel alive again.

Wincing as she flexed her muscles for the first time in ages, Olivia pulled her wrists around to look at them, disgusted by what she saw. They looked hideous. The skin had chafed and peeled back, rope fibers stuck in the matted blood caked over the wounds, and black, purple, and blue bruises formed a gruesome frame around the injuries. She could already see the wounds starting to puff with infection.

"Let's get those clean for you," Seth suggested with a smile as he watched her face, turning to grab the bottle of antiseptic. Seizing the moment, Olivia quickly slid the Swiss Army knife underneath the pillow directly behind her. When he looked back at her a second later, she smiled innocently but her heart was pounding.

Frowning slightly, Seth took hold of her wrists, twisting them around to take in the damage. His concentration was virtually tangible as he poured some antiseptic onto a cotton ball and dabbed gently at her wrists. The cool alcohol stung violently as it cleaned but it felt so good that Olivia nearly sobbed in relief. She felt a rush of gratitude toward "Elliot" but quashed it quickly, suddenly hyper aware of how Stockholm Syndrome happened.

"There. Much better!" With a self-satisfied smile Seth finished with the antiseptic and applied a beige bandage around her wrists before releasing her arms. Flexing her fingers tentatively, Olivia was relieved to see that everything still appeared to be in working order. Her shoulders burned from being held in the same position for so long but she could move everything without any problem.

Thank God for small favors.

Sensing her relief, Seth rubbed her back lovingly. "I wish I could leave them loose Baby, but I'm just not sure I can trust you. Not yet. I need you to prove it to me."

Feeling panic rise in her gut at the thought of being bound again, Olivia swallowed hard. "I would never try to leave you again Elliot. I . . . I love you. And even if I wanted to, I couldn't." Choking on the words in her hurry to get them out, Olivia motioned to her huge throbbing foot.

"I can't be too careful Angel," Seth murmured, smiling fondly at her. Leaning over, he rummaged around in the small drawer of his night stand, mumbling softly to himself. Olivia's heart fell when she saw him yank out a pair of silver handcuffs with a content smile.

Desperate to keep her hands free, Olivia squirmed uncomfortably on the cushy bed, her mind racing a mile a minute.

"But if we are going to be intimate I want to be able to use my hands Baby. I want to be able to touch you, to pleasure you." The lies slipped off her tongue so easily she almost scared herself and she prayed he was equally convinced.

Seth considered that for a moment, probing the depths of her eyes carefully. Then, as if a brilliant idea had suddenly occurred to him, he brightened visibly. "Well, I can just bind one of your hands. And I don't have to bind it behind your back. I can attach it to the headboard. I know you like that." A wicked grin spread over his face and his eyes took on a faraway look, as if a vivid visual image was playing in his mind. "I've seen you use handcuffs that way before."

Olivia flushed bright red at his insinuation, unnerved by the sudden knowledge that this man had been watching her closely, and probably for a while. She and Elliot hadn't used handcuffs to spice up their lovemaking for many months.

Oblivious to her embarrassment, Seth took hold of her left wrist and snapped the cuff around it, tightening it firmly. Just before he reached up to attach the other side to the post of the headboard however, he paused.

"Oops. First things first." Cheerfully, with a hungry gleam in his eyes, Seth lowered his hands to the hem of her shirt and slowly, reverently, pushed it up. Reluctantly, Olivia raised her arms and let him slide it over her head, leaving her clad in only a short white camisole that ended at her midriff and barely covered her breasts. Tossing the discarded shirt on the floor, Seth gazed at his prize excitedly, his eyes drinking in every curve, every dip, every line. The ravenous look on his face scared the life out of her and Olivia wouldn't have been surprised if he could hear her heart pounding.

Leaning forward again and using his broad body to push her back into the soft mattress, Seth snapped the free handcuff around the bedpost and grinned down at her happily. Standing up quickly, he yanked his own shirt over his head and tossed it on the ground before sliding his belt impatiently out of the loops. Olivia tried to gaze at him sensually, but she was fairly sure her expression conveyed more fear than anything. That suspicion was confirmed when Seth slipped back onto the bed to lay beside her in just his boxer briefs, touching her mouth softly with his fingertips.

"It'll be okay," he murmured, his eyes focused on her pliant mouth as he spoke. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

Resigned to fate, Olivia smiled shakily at him and touched his cheek. "Condom?"

Seth smiled patronizingly at her, his hand stroking down her side, enjoying the feel of her silk camisole against the rough skin of his palm.

"Baby, you know I don't like those slimy things," he complained mildly, slipping his hand under the bottom of her camisole to rest on her ribs. "I'm safe. You're safe. We have nothing to worry about. And it's about time we start trying for another baby anyway. Eli's getting older."

Olivia was proud of herself for not vomiting at his words even though she really wanted to. The thought of feeling him, really feeling him inside her with no barriers, was beyond sickening. But if this was what it took to earn his trust, to give Eli a chance for escape, this is what she would do.

Olivia closed her eyes as Seth eased himself up over her, lowering his mouth to her neck, kissing and biting. He pressed his full weight onto her and, although he wasn't much heavier than Elliot, she felt trapped, suffocated between the plush, yielding softness of the mattress and his hard, heavy, sweaty body.

Even the dark, dank, lonely dungeon seemed preferable to this hell.

An explosion of hot torment rocked Olivia's body when Seth accidently bumped her injured foot as he worked his way down her body. Crying out in pain, Olivia pushed him off her, not caring about the consequences, only able to think of the spikes of pain that pierced her nervous system.

"Goddamn it! Be careful!" The words flew out before she could stop them but she snapped her mouth closed immediately afterward, anticipating punishment for her disobedience and disrespect. She was shocked when Seth immediately moved off of her, concern flooding his features.

"Baby, I'm sorry. Do you want me to rub it for you?"

"NO! God no!" Unable to hide the panic in her tone, Olivia had to take a deep breath to steady herself. The thought of anyone or anything touching that limb was terrifying. "No, no. Thank you though."

"I could bandage it up for you."

"I don't think that will help. You are sweet though Honey." Olivia tried to look submissive and adoring as she slipped back into her role as the dutiful girlfriend. "I think maybe I should go see a doctor."

Seth's face darkened at the idea and Olivia instantly wished she could take it back.

"No, we can't do that. You know we can't."

"Yes, of course, I know," amended Olivia quickly, sending him a shaky smile. "Maybe I could just have something for the pain then? That would help me . . . get in the mood."

Seth was off the bed like a rocket at that suggestion, disappearing into a small on-suite bath to the right of the bed. When he returned, he proudly held a glass of water and a few small pills. Olivia was wary for a moment, unsure if she could trust him to give her the painkillers she desired. It was entirely possible he would slip her something else altogether, but at that point she was willing to take the risk. She would be able to think much clearer, to stall much more effectively, if she could just ease the pain. With a small grimace Olivia took what he offered, gulping the pills down and praying they were fast acting.

Anything to take the edge off this horror.

Laying back down beside her, Seth watched Olivia's every move, one hand resting on her abdomen while the other plucked the empty glass from her hand. Dumping the glass unceremoniously on the night table, he wasted no time in moving back over her, nibbling and licking down the cords of her neck. Olivia's skin crawled in response to his touch and she had to grip the bed sheets to keep from smacking him away. Trying to distract herself, she imagined how satisfying it would be to take that Swiss Army knife and jab it into one of his arteries, to watch him bleed out after what he had done to her. For a moment she even flirted with the idea, but deep down she knew that even if she was successful in seriously injuring or killing him, she was still at a disadvantage. If she couldn't free herself from the handcuffs she couldn't release Eli and they would both die of dehydration. And that was assuming she was successful. If she didn't aim right, if she wasn't able to efficiently eliminate him, well, he would probably waste no time in killing them both.

No, she had to be patient. Bide her time. Wait for the right moment. She just had to close her eyes tightly and ignore the crushing feeling of his body against hers. Unless . . .

"Stop," Olivia blurted out suddenly, pushing him away again with her free hand. To his credit, "Elliot" did pull back, looking down at her questioningly with dark, wild eyes.

"I, I want to do this, but . . . my foot," Olivia stammered, running her hand over his shoulder lightly. "I can't concentrate. I just need a few minutes, for the painkillers to kick in."

Silently, Seth stared at her and she could sense he was starting to lose trust in her again, starting to worry about her motives. If that happened, both she and Eli were in big trouble. She needed to distract him again, to find a way to stop him from thinking too much. Olivia knew of only one way to do so in that moment, but it took every bit of fortitude she had left.

Slowly, Olivia dropped her hand down between Seth's legs, caressing his heat. Shocked, he gasped and his eyes flew closed reflexively, a deep noise of need resonating in the back of his throat. The moment was so obviously sensual for him that Olivia felt sick inside, mentally apologizing to Elliot. But she had to do what she had to do.

After a moment Olivia moved her hand back up to rest against his chest but it took Seth several more moments to open his eyes again and steady his breathing. When he gazed down at her, his eyes were wild and unfocused.

"Okay." His voice was hoarse but he made no effort to clear it. "We can wait a few minutes."

"Thank you Baby." Olivia smiled up at him, feeling a wave of relief sweep through her. Execution delayed yet again. And if she had her way, it would be delayed for at least tonight.

As "Elliot" rolled off her, Olivia shifted closer, partly to placate him and partly in an attempt to extinguish the cold from her bones. Closing her eyes, she pretended to relax as he lay beside her, propped up languorously on one elbow.

Watching. Just watching.

Feeling his diligent eyes locked on her face, Olivia let her head nod to one side, feigning fighting sleep. Moments later, she deepened her breathing, relaxed her face, and threw in a soft snore for his benefit, praying that she was as good an actress as she hoped. If he thought she was asleep, maybe, just maybe, he would leave her alone for the night and give her time to plan. She had no intention of actually sleeping, but if it bought her time, she was willing to try anything.

"Olivia?" Seth's voice jolted her but she was careful not to flinch. Snoring softly, she waited.

"Olivia?" His voice was more insistent this time and she felt a hand on her arm, shaking her softly. Cracking open an eye, Olivia mumbled nonsense at him in what she hoped was a convincingly sleepy voice and then returned her head to the pillow.

Feeling extremely torn, Seth frowned down at the sleeping woman in his bed. A large part of him was frustrated. He was intensely aroused and he had his beautiful girlfriend right there with him. He was the man of the house and she had a duty to satisfy him. But at the same time she looked so peaceful, fast asleep beside him, her hair splayed out across the pillow and her face totally relaxed.

And really, it wasn't like she was going anywhere. He had all the time in the world to play with her.

Tomorrow he'd make sure she was good and doped up on painkillers. Then he would get his due.

But for now, he would let her sleep. She would need her strength to keep up with him.

"Sweet dreams, my love," Seth whispered, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling her unique scent. "I'll be waiting for you in the morning."

As he rolled over to extinguish the lamp on the bedside table, Seth didn't notice Olivia fail to suppress an anxious shudder.


	18. Reckless

**Chapter 18 – Reckless**

The stupid cell phone was laughing at him.

In the midst of the tense squad room, the shiny, silver-plated gadget sat unceremoniously on his cluttered desk, flipped open, dark display facing up. Laughing at him. Elliot stared back blankly, his solemn eyes reflected in the phone's display window, the humor completely lost on him.

It was almost impossible to laugh when you felt wronged, cheated. And that was exactly how Elliot felt. That small, technological marvel had raised his hopes only to quickly squash them. It had offered the promise of answers but, when resurrected from inactivity, had opted to keep its valuable secrets.

Of course it was a prepaid cell phone.

Of course there were thousands of the exact same model sold across the state every year.

Of course there were no outgoing or incoming calls saved in the phone's memory. No text messages either.

Of course it was impossible to trace. Of _course_ it was. That was just Elliot's luck.

Damn cell phone.

Clearly irritated, Elliot picked up the offending device and snapped it shut sharply before shoving it roughly into a clear evidence bag and dumping it into the side drawer of his desk. Groaning morosely, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his bleary eyes with a clenched fist. He should have expected nothing less, but he was stupid and had let his cell phone discovery get his hopes up. He had believed naively that he was due for some kind of clue, a hint, about who had taken his loved ones and where they might be.

But it was not to be. He should have known.

Around Elliot, the precinct buzzed with activity as weary, sleep-deprived detectives hunched over their messy desks, tracking down a few pitiful leads on the case. Many of them had been on overtime for days, hunting for a silent predator, a nameless evil. Olivia had been . . . was . . . well-liked and respected around the precinct and no one wanted to give up the search for her yet, despite the fact that as the days ticked by, the odds of finding her alive plummeted significantly. Everyone recognized that, whispered about it, but no one dared state it aloud within earshot of Elliot. In fact, his colleagues had become quite adept at carefully skirting his desk altogether, as if an invisible force field propelled them away, speaking to him only when absolutely necessary.

It was basic survival instinct to avoid pain at all costs, and to interact with Elliot was to vicariously experience pain. Everyone knew that, including Elliot.

Wrenching his tired eyes open again, Elliot sighed roughly and plopped his elbows down heavily on his desk, dislodging a teetering pile of papers that then spilled haphazardly across the cluttered surface. Shoving the excess paper away irritably, Elliot refocused on the white printout that boasted the sketch of the suspect he had created with the help of a computer and a police sketch artist. The face that stared back at him was plain, unexceptional, but not ugly. The round baby cheeks. The wire-rimmed glasses. The dark, molten eyes. As he tossed and turned the previous night, Elliot had wracked his brain desperately to figure out the connection he had to this youthful stranger, to identify any reason the stranger might have had for wanting to inflict such pain. No matter how hard Elliot thought, no matter how long sleep eluded him, nothing came to mind. There had been no matches in the database, no hits yet from the canvass. And so the perp remained nothing but a two-dimensional picture on Elliot's desk, beyond his reach.

"Daddy?" A voice over Elliot's shoulder jerked him back to the present and he swiveled in his chair to look up at the smiling face of his oldest daughter.

"Hi Mo," Elliot greeted her warmly, rising far enough to pull her into a tight, enveloping hug that he was reluctant to end, aware now more than ever of the importance of letting those you love know it while you still had the chance. "What are you doing here? How's your mom?"

"She's hanging in there. Barely. Kathleen and the twins are at home with her," Maureen said with a small smile as she moved to sit across from him at Olivia's desk. Her shiny blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders as she dropped a small paper bag on his desk. Elliot was struck in that moment by just how much of a beautiful young woman she had become, right before his eyes. "Now I thought I would come here and see how _you_ are doing. I brought you a sandwich."

"Thanks sweetheart." Elliot opened the bag and pulled out a fragrant roast beef sandwich from his favorite deli. He wasn't hungry but appreciated the effort and so took a bite anyway. Maureen watched him carefully, her blue eyes warm but assessing.

"So Dad, how _are_ you doing? I'm not going to lie. You don't look so hot."

Dropping his sandwich back down on the noisy paper bag, Elliot shrugged absently, brushed the crumbs off his fingers, and returned his gaze to the drawing. "About the same I guess. Hanging in there. Frustrated."

Maureen tried to smile but it presented as more of a grimace. "I'm worried about Eli Dad. About both of them."

"I know honey," Elliot murmured, his old desk chair creaking as he leaned back and scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face. "I am too. Just when we think we're getting close, we aren't. This guy is still an enigma."

Maureen watched her father's face tighten as he glared down at the sketch stormily. Reaching across the desk, she covered his hand with hers. "Dad, this isn't your fault. You know that, right?"

"This is no coincidence Mo. They weren't snatched at random," Elliot grunted, absently crinkling the corner of the sketch with weary fingers. "It was about me. It was because of me they were taken. I don't know why yet, but I am at the root of this whole fiasco. And I had him, and I let him get away. He stood there, looked me right in the eye, and then gave me the slip." Elliot slammed his free hand down on the desk in frustration, earning wary glances from some of the detectives surrounding him. "Some cop I am."

Shaking her head, Maureen squeezed her father's hand lightly, blonde hair glimmering in the harsh fluorescent light. "Dad, you could NOT have foreseen this. You are being way too hard on yourself."

Elliot sighed loudly, tired of the constant tightness and strain in his chest that was kept alive by worry. "It doesn't even matter anymore. I just want them home. Safe at home."

"If anybody can get them home safe, you can Daddy." Maureen smiled at her father with obvious pride and slipped her warm hand into his. Feeling his heart tingle with love, Elliot genuinely returned the smile and the tightness in his chest eased a little.

But just a little.

When they fell silent again, Elliot directed his attention back to the sketch and Maureen turned hers to the picture of a younger Olivia and her mother that sat on the edge of Olivia's desk. Both women smiled up at her from behind the glass frame. Reaching out, Maureen gently touched the picture with her fingertips, her lips twitching into a small grin.

"So you and Olivia, huh," Maureen started slowly, smothering the grin and avoiding her father's eyes, staring instead at the picture she now held between her fingertips.

Elliot glanced up at her, brooding eyes reflecting irritation but not surprise. "Your mother told you."

Maureen chuckled dryly. "From what I hear, she told everyone in the precinct as well."

With a wry laugh, Elliot kept his gaze trained on his daughter, discomfort swelling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't wanted his children to find out like this. That wasn't fair to them. They should have heard it from him.

After a moment of awkward silence, Elliot cleared his throat and confirmed it. "Yeah. Me and Liv."

"It's about time," Maureen teased with a small smile, finally meeting his eyes with nothing but acceptance. Quickly she sobered however and returned her gaze to the picture. "Before all this went down, you two were happy?"

"Very happy."

"I'm glad Daddy. You deserve it."

Elliot looked steadily at his daughter, his eyes pleading. "I want you to know that I never cheated on your mother. Everything that happened between me and Olivia happened after the divorce."

"I know." Maureen smiled comfortingly, her soft eyes gentle. "Both you and Liv have strong values. It's one of the reasons I respect you both so much. All of us kids are happy for you Dad. We want you to be happy too."

"Thanks sweetheart. That means a lot to me." Elliot released a long breath that he didn't even realize he had been holding. Eyes still watching his beautiful, compassionate daughter, he fiddled with the sketch mindlessly with his fingertips, twisting it around on the desk as if changing the angle would yield the answers to all his questions.

"So what happens now?" Maureen carefully placed the picture back where she had found it, making small adjustments until it looked as if it had never been touched. "I mean, after you find Liv and bring her home. Does one of you lose your job?"

"No. I'm retiring. Olivia will stay on here." Elliot didn't even realize he had made that decision until it came blurting out of his mouth. Surprised, Maureen looked at him carefully for a moment before nodding slowly.

"That's a good decision."

"You think so?"

Maureen smiled wider now, her light eyes twinkling. "Yeah. Actually, I think it's a great idea. You've spent so much of your life giving. It's time you did something for yourself." Standing up suddenly, the legs of Olivia's chair squealing as they scraped against the tile floor, Maureen walked around the desk and wrapped her smooth arms around her father's neck in a tight hug. "I love you Daddy."

He wanted to return the sentiment, he really did. But at that exact second, as he clung to his daughter fiercely, Elliot felt so suffocated by intense emotion that he couldn't rip the words free from his constricted throat. For the first time, everything that had happened really hit him, and Elliot had to force himself to swallow the sobs that threatened to soak his daughter's maroon sweater with tears. Still, despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking just slightly. Feeling the quiver, Maureen hugged her father tighter and felt tears of her own spill over the rims of her blue eyes.

"Elliot!"

The sound of feet thundering down the hallway startled the father and daughter duo apart. Elliot spun around in his chair just in time to see Fin hurtle through the doorway of the squad room, skidding on the slippery tile but quickly regaining his balance.

"What?" Elliot inquired tersely, his hands gripping the arms of his chair in nervous anticipation, knuckles ghostly white.

Breathlessly, Fin held up a crumpled sheet of paper clutched triumphantly in his hand. Waving it like a victory flag, he gulped down a deep breath before continuing.

"We caught a break. One of the canvassers talked to a shopkeeper who saw someone matching the description hop into a black SUV about three blocks from your apartment."

With an exultant smile, Fin dropped the crinkled sheet of paper onto Elliot's desk with a soft whoosh.

"And guess what. We got ourselves a license plate."

* * *

The building was a death trap.

From the outside it looked innocent enough, its red brick façade the fraternal twin of its neighbors on either side. The balconies boasted dark rod iron railings and the walkway leading up to the glass door was shoveled, albeit poorly. It was only once a person stepped into the rank, foreboding, low-to-no security foyer that they could tell in this hovel the rent was cheap and the cockroaches plentiful.

It was a good thing Elliot was in the mood to exterminate.

It had taken the skilled SWAT team little time to quietly evacuate the apartments that surrounded Unit 806. Many of the occupants had already left for work or were out running errands, leading their normal lives. Those who had been home willingly abandoned the building, excited by the commotion and the development of a thrilling new story they could tell their friends. His neighbors were able to shed little light on the occupant of interest – noting only that he was quiet and kept mostly to himself. No one saw him with a woman or a little boy. But it was always the quiet ones, wasn't it?

And yes, he looked exactly like the sketch.

Now, the eighth floor empty, the SWAT team fell back and waited patiently several buildings over, hidden from sight. No one wanted the resident of Apartment 806 to panic and do something they would all regret. As he scaled the dirty stairs at the back of the building two at a time, Fin, Cragen, and Munch hustling behind him, Elliot tried to ready himself mentally for what he might find in the apartment of Seth Kingsley. He had no idea what to expect and it frightened the hell out of him. Immediately after identifying Seth as the owner of the SUV, Elliot had rushed to the building listed as his residence and pressed an eager ear against the deep brown door. All had been quiet inside. Even listening intently, Elliot was denied the smallest of noises. No muffled cries for help. No rustling to suggest something inside was alive.

That silence could mean any one of a number of things.

Maybe they had the wrong guy.

Maybe they had the wrong place.

Maybe he had his prisoners hidden and gagged in a room somewhere. Drugged senseless perhaps.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was all over. Maybe Elliot was too late. Maybe he was about to walk in on Olivia and Eli's lifeless bodies.

If that was the case, someone would pay.

Hitting the eighth floor landing, Elliot pushed through the squeaky fire door at the end of the hall and slowed his pace, stalking like a jungle cat toward Apartment 806, his heart thudding in his ears and his blood thundering through his veins. Breathing lightly, Elliot sidestepped nimbly over to the door and motioned for his comrades to follow. Wordlessly, Fin slipped to the wall on the opposite side of the door, with Munch falling into position behind him while Cragen pressed his back to the wall beside Elliot. Pushing his ear against the thin door once more, Elliot strained his ears for a sound, any sound.

Still quiet.

Whispering a prayer, Elliot drew his gun from its holster, his finger moving instinctively to the trigger. Reaching over with his free hand, he rapped on the door loudly three times.

Still silent inside.

Taking a deep, uneven breath, Elliot nodded sharply to his teammates before stepping forward and launching a broad shoulder at the door. The poor quality wood gave way easily, tiny slivers flying every which direction as Elliot forced himself into the apartment, gun drawn, deep voice yelling "NYPD!"

Adrenaline pumping, Elliot's intelligent blue eyes scanned the entry foyer and living room, alert to any potential threat or movement. Stepping quickly into the apartment after him, Fin, Munch, and Cragen spread out and sprinted quickly into the kitchen and bathroom with guns drawn, scanning in vain for any signs of life. After a series of "All clear!" calls the men lowered their guns slowly, and Elliot felt his spirit die a little more.

Eli and Olivia weren't there.

"Dammit," Elliot swore under his breath, running his free hand through his cropped hair. Pacing anxiously like a caged animal, his eyes absorbed the space for the first time, noting the details almost absently. A poorly maintained fish tank. Bare walls. Threadbare, plastic-coated furniture. Poor lighting. But nothing to indicate that Olivia and Eli had ever been there.

"Elliot, man, take a look at this." Fin's eyes were wide and his voice low as he motioned to a bound book that lay open on the coffee table. Crossing the floor in several long strides, Elliot squinted down at the pages, freezing when he saw their contents.

Pictures of him.

And Olivia. And Eli. And a ton of other important people in Elliot's life. Maureen. Kathleen. Kathy. Dickie. Lizzie. Adam. Cragen. Fin. Munch. Cassidy. Friends. Neighbors. Slipping on a latex glove, Fin slowly started to flip the pages, exposing many, many more unsettling prints, all with dates and captions. Some going back many, many years.

Seth Kingsley had been watching him for a very long time.

"Christ Elliot," mumbled Munch as he gazed around the tall man's shoulder, his brows furrowing above dark glasses. "We've got one sick puppy on our hands."

It was all Elliot could do to nod in response as he watched page after page, year after year, of his life float by.

"Well, at least there's no doubt we're in the right place," Cragen muttered, holstering his gun and unzipping his flak jacket slightly. "But the question remains, where the hell is he, and where the hell are they?"

One of those questions was about to be answered.

As the four men stood by the coffee table, mutely staring down at the book with a morbid spellbound fascination, a bulky figure appeared in the mangled doorway and froze at the sight of the intruders in his apartment. They had their backs to him and Seth couldn't quite make out their murmured conversation, but he recognized them instantly. His initial shock evolved into quivering awe and then quickly to spine-tingling excitement. They were all there. Munch. Fin. Cragen. And Elliot.

Elliot Stabler. His idol. In his apartment. Touching his things.

Seth knew he shouldn't linger, knew that he was being reckless, tempting fate by just standing there, but he had to watch them, at least for a second, in order to emblazon this precious memory into his psyche. His entire body trembling, he slowly started to reverse out of the open doorway, his full laundry basket clutched in front of him, his eyes shining with happiness.

They had all come. To see him. He couldn't wait to tell Olivia.

It was Cragen who caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Whirling around, he jerked his gun out of its holster and pointed it steadily at the man in the hall. The other three men quickly followed suit, reacting more to Cragen's actions than any real knowledge of the looming threat. It was only when they followed his direct gaze that they caught sight of their observer, frozen like a deer in headlights.

Elliot recognized him immediately.

"Hey!" Elliot shouted, his entire body tensing as he leveled his gun at the man in the doorway. "NYPD. Don't move!"

Jolted out of his momentary paralysis, Seth immediately dropped his laundry basket and bolted, the four men close on his heels. Adrenaline pumping, Elliot vaulted the spilled clothing, Fin right behind him. Munch slipped on the uneven mounds of clothing and went down, Cragen stopping only long enough to haul him to his feet before following Fin and Elliot as they thundered for the stairs.

Seth crashed through the fire door at the end of the hall, slamming it hard behind him and leaping down the stairs. The door snapped back and slapped at Elliot, but he managed to deflect most of the blow with a well-placed wrist. Seth only had the chance to skitter down one flight of stairs before Elliot was also in the stairwell, flying down the steps two at a time, much like he had come up them. They raced in a spiral motion down staircase after staircase, Seth managing to keep a flight ahead of Elliot and Fin, all three men breathing hard, their feet slipping on the wet stairs, their legs tangling in frantic pursuit. Elliot pushed and Seth pushed harder, maintaining the aggravating distance.

As they neared the bottom of the building, Fin abruptly bolted through a fire door on the second floor as Elliot drove on, sweat flicking off his forehead and splashing on the dirty grout below. Seth arrived at the ground floor first, darting through the front door and racing out onto the sidewalk. As Elliot pushed through the glass door, mere seconds behind, he caught sight of Fin launching himself over the railing of a second floor balcony. Fin landed directly on the fleeing man, both crashing to the ground with a bone jarring thud as Elliot skidded up beside them. Rage fueling his movements, Elliot hauled Seth out from under Fin and threw him on his back so hard that it knocked the breath straight out of the younger man.

"You okay man?" Elliot grunted, glancing over his shoulder in time to see Fin nod as he got to his feet slowly, also winded.

"Yeah," Fin gasped, bending at the waist to catch his breath. "I'm fine. The hump broke my fall."

Irate, Elliot turned back to the man writhing on the ground, clutching his elbow and gasping for breath. Grabbing the collar of Seth's jacket, Elliot lifted him up slightly and then forced him back to the ground hard before shaking him violently.

"Where are they?" Elliot's words were harsh, guttural.

Eyes dark, Seth gazed up at him almost adoringly, a look that made Elliot feel decidedly uncomfortable and awkward. Seth opened his mouth as if to respond to Elliot's question, but opted to just smile instead, his yellowing teeth sallow in his flushed face.

"Answer me!" Elliot yelled, again grabbing Seth by the collar, yanking him up, and then shoving him back onto the unforgiving pavement with a thud.

Unrepentant, Seth just smiled and remained silent, an arrogant look on his face that Elliot wanted desperately to rub straight off. Gritting his teeth, he pulled so hard on Seth's jacket that they were both surprised when it didn't rip.

"One more chance dirt bag. Where are my girlfriend and son? You tell me or I will break your damn neck."

His smile wavering only a little, Seth shook his head slowly and spoke in that small, soft voice that Elliot remembered vividly from the bakery. "No, you won't. You help people, you don't hurt people."

"With God as my witness, if you don't tell me what I want to know, I WILL hurt you," Elliot grunted, his fingers tightening further around the fabric of Seth's collar in an attempt to stop his hands from traveling to the man's throat and strangling him.

Seemingly oblivious to the threat, Seth's smile brightened again and his eyes glazed over slowly, as if watching some internal image playing in his mind. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Don't worry. They're safe. They're happy. They've learned their lessons. Eli calls me Daddy now. And Olivia screams my name and cries with pleasure when she cums."

Something inside Elliot snapped.

Before he consciously knew what he was doing, Elliot started pounding Seth in the face with punishing fists. At a leverage disadvantage, Seth brought his arms up to protect his face, but there was little he could do to defend himself against such reckless hate. Everything else drifted into the background for Elliot – the sound of voices, the noises of the streets, the honk of car horns, the whistle of the wind. All Elliot could hear was the steady thud of his fist meeting flesh. When he drew back after several brutal blows, he noticed that his hand was stained with bright red blood. Rage contorting his features, he looked down to find Seth's face similarly stained, but the aggravating smile still intact.

"Elliot, enough." Fin's voice was suddenly in Elliot's ear and several strong hands grabbed his raised arm to drag him off and away from the prone man. He put up no fight, the bubble of rage in his ears having popped and the sounds of the surrounding area flooding back in. As the SWAT team descended on the melee, Fin quickly inserted himself in front of Elliot and pushed him back, his eyes dark and sympathetic. "If you break his jaw, he can't talk man."

Shaking off Fin's hand, Elliot stepped back and tried to catch his breath, glowering down at the round, baby-faced man laying quietly on the sidewalk, groping his broken nose. Several officers dressed in black SWAT uniforms hauled Seth to his feet and yanked his wrists roughly behind his back, snapping on the cuffs as a river of blood flowed down from his nose to soil his jacket. Seth winced but didn't fight them, his beady eyes never leaving Elliot's face.

As the uniforms hauled him off to a waiting cruiser, Seth glanced back over his shoulder one final time at Elliot standing on the snowy sidewalk, bloody fists clenched tightly against his sides. When Seth smiled again, his teeth were coated in sticky red blood and his eyes were dangerous.

"Don't worry, Elliot Stabler. Olivia and Eli are safe. And they've learned their lessons. I've made sure of that."


	19. Promise

**Chapter 19 – Promise**

She fought it valiantly, but in the end sleep won out.

She knew the dangers, the possible consequences of letting down her guard, but she couldn't help it.

In her efforts to deceive Seth, Olivia had fooled her own body. She had lay there for so long, pretending to sleep, that in the end her body took the bait. The darkness of the room combined with the softness of the mattress and the warmth of the covers to lull her into a false sense of security, permitting her mind to detach from the previously unshakeable feelings of anxiety and fear that had dominated her life for days.

And finally, Olivia could sleep.

The next morning, it was the sun that woke her. The intensity of the rays as they streamed in through the window was the first thing Olivia felt as she reluctantly emerged from her deep, peaceful slumber. The strength of the light pressed heavily against her eyelids, tugging at her consciousness and pulling her back into reality from a blissful dream world.

It wasn't fair. She was still so tired, so very tired.

Groaning in irritation, Olivia attempted to flop an arm over her eyes to block out the harsh sun. She jumped a little in surprise when her arm snagged and her shoulder whined in protest. The rattle of the handcuffs was a sobering reminder of her predicament, and as soon as her brain registered the sound, Olivia's entire body tensed, that wonderful "just waking" sensation vanishing rapidly. Immediately stilling her movements and keeping her eyes closed, Olivia forced her other senses into high alert, scanning the room for some sign she wasn't alone. If he noticed her awaken, she knew she would be forced to tend to his needs. And that was the last thing she wanted to do.

But everything was quiet. Mercifully quiet.

Beside her, there was no warm, steady breathing. No weight altering the form of the mattress. No caress of a phantom hand. All was silent and still except for the consistent, heavy tick of the grandfather clock standing guard at the end of the long hallway.

She was alone. At least for the moment.

Wearily, Olivia rubbed her free hand over sandpapery eyes and tried to clear the maze of cobwebs from her mind. Her last memory of the previous night was squinting unobtrusively at the red digital display of the alarm clock that sat on the bedside table beside her. It had been 2 a.m. and "Elliot" was still awake. She had been lying on her side as he spooned behind her, his bulky body pressed firmly against hers. She could feel every contour, every lump and bump. His erection was as subtle as a freight train and she shivered at the memory of it.

Had he . . . ? No, a quick survey of the sensations in her body informed her that he had not. There was pain, a lot of pain, but none that suggested anything sexual in nature had happened to her last night after she fell asleep.

Even with her eyes squeezed tightly closed, Olivia had still felt his gaze on her as he lay propped up on one elbow and staring down at her in the dark. Her skin had crawled uncomfortably but she dared not move away for fear he would take that as a sign she was awake and continue his advances. As it was, he seemed content to caress her face, stroke her cheeks, nuzzle her hair, and occasionally put a hand on her hip or stomach.

Unpleasant for sure, but far more desirable than what he _could_ have been doing.

Even now, despite her confidence that she was alone in the room, Olivia was hesitant to open her eyes for fear she would see him staring down at her with those dark rodent eyes, ready to pounce. Still, as the annoyingly practical voice in her head insisted, she couldn't just lay there all day. She needed to formulate a plan, and her plan was very dependent on whether or not she was alone. It was with that thought in mind that Olivia finally, slowly, opened her eyes just a crack.

The bed beside her was indeed empty, the covers thrown off the edge in disarray and a plaid robe tossed carelessly over the footboard. Slowly, Olivia twisted her head around, flexing her fingers absently to relieve the pins and needles sensation in her cuffed arm. There was no sign of "Elliot" in the room. He was not standing over her, not laying in bed, and not perched in the wingback chair beside the window. Emitting a sigh of relief, Olivia opened her eyes completely, only to snap them shut almost immediately against the bright light that spilled into the room through open curtains. The sun shone merrily in the sky and Olivia grunted, rolling over to her other side to hide from it, trying to ignore the standard stab of excruciating pain in her ankle.

That wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

As she moved a shaky hand up to rub her face sleepily, Olivia's fingers came into contact with a folded piece of paper that sat patiently on the pillow beside her. Re-opening her eyes, she reached out to grasp it, parting it up the fold and straining to read the neat penmanship inside.

_Baby,_

_Gone into town to run some errands. You seemed really tired so I allowed you to sleep a bit longer. I'll see you later. Rest up. I have some romantic plans for us. I've bought you something sexy to wear, can't wait to see you in it._

_I love you. Kiss._

_Elliot_

Shivering, Olivia crumpled the note and tossed it to the ground, trying desperately to block out the unpleasant memories of the night before - his body pressing into hers, his lips ravaging her lips, the feel of his rough, dry, cracked hands on her skin, the weight of his heat in her palm. Olivia gagged a bit despite herself and had to swallow a mouthful of bile that shot up her esophagus.

She needed to get the hell out of there.

Tonight there would be no stalling.

Tonight he would not take no for an answer.

The knife.

Remembering suddenly, Olivia shoved her free hand under the pillow, feeling around frantically for the Swiss Army knife she had tucked there. Initially her fingers groped in vain, finding nothing but smooth cotton bed sheet. Her heart plummeted and her stomach bottomed out, the horrifying possibility that he had found it during the night while she slept at the forefront of her mind. When she finally felt the brush of soft plastic, wedged snugly between the mattress and the thick headboard, a gasp of relief escaped Olivia's lips. Yanking it out, she rolled over onto her back and slid up a bit on the bed to facilitate the use of both her hands. Even with that, she still struggled to pull out each of the implements, her fingers thick and fumbling from misuse and exhaustion. Naturally, her intended target, the small file, was the last one she drew out.

Quickly, Olivia sat up as best she could and went to work on the lock of the handcuffs, wielding the file clumsily as she strained her ears for the telltale click. Her heart was pounding and her senses ran on adrenaline, still not absolutely certain that "Elliot" had already left, that he wasn't still in the house. If he was downstairs in the cellar with Eli, she probably wouldn't hear him until it was too late. But that fear didn't slow her down. Regardless of what he did to her, it didn't matter. She couldn't wait anymore.

It was time to take action. She had to seize the opportunity and get Eli out of there while she still had the chance.

"Finally!" Olivia grunted to herself as the lock clicked and the handcuffs relaxed their grip on her battered wrist. Reaching up, she ripped the cuffs off and freed herself, massaging her sore skin gingerly. Olivia knew without a doubt that there would be scars from this ordeal, both mentally and physically.

Further down the bed, her foot throbbed its agreement.

Taking a deep breath, Olivia slowly used her upper body strength to push herself down the bed, struggling to keep her foot elevated as she maneuvered toward the old fashioned chest that sat at the foot of the bed. Every time her control slipped and her injured foot made contact with the soft covers, Olivia cried out in agony and stars blurred her vision. Gritting her teeth, she dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand until they drew blood, cringing at the pain until it ebbed enough she could think straight again. Reaching the end of the bed, she grabbed her dirty clothes off the chest, gingerly slipping her pants back on and yanking her long-sleeve T-shirt back over her head.

Now for the test.

Bracing herself, Olivia used what remained of her upper body strength to pull herself up into a sitting position, her broken foot extended out before her and dangling over the edge of the bed. Even with just that minimal movement, she broke into a ridiculous sweat as her body battled the pain. Cautiously, Olivia stood up, placing all the weight on her good foot and letting the bad one hang impotently in the air. Slowly, gently, cautiously, she lowered that foot and put a tiny bit of weight on it. Just a tiny bit to test it out.

It failed the test.

Almost instantaneously, Olivia collapsed back onto the bed, gasping in pain, tears streaming involuntarily from her glazed hazel eyes. It felt like someone had dropped a sledgehammer on her foot, pulverizing all the bones until there was nothing but hot painful dust left in its wake. She lost track of how long she lay on the bed, praying to God that the agony would stop. It felt like hours, but was probably only several long minutes, before she felt able to sit again and prop herself up on her hands.

Walking was definitely not going to happen.

She would have to crawl.

Yesterday, when "Elliot" had carried her effortlessly down the hall, the trip had seemed shorter somehow, perhaps because Olivia was dreading the arrival at their final destination. Now, as she literally dragged herself down the hallway, using her upper body to propel herself backward, the trip seemed interminable. Her palms ached with both rug burn and the effort of clutching the Swiss Army knife as sweat trickled down her back, pooling damply at the waist of her pants. As she slowly maneuvered closer to the end of the hall, the grandfather clock chimed 11 a.m. with a series of loud gongs that resonated off the walls and made Olivia's head ache.

It was a harsh reminder that she was on borrowed time. She had no idea when "Elliot" had left. It could be hours until he returned. Or minutes.

Or even seconds.

That possibility motivated Olivia to push harder and she thrust herself into action, trying to cover as much ground as she could, her shoulders screaming with the effort and her foot burning. Her thigh trembled from the strength it took to keep the ankle elevated but she ignored the quake and kept moving inch-by-inch closer to her destination.

When Olivia finally reached the top of the cellar stairs, she stopped for a moment and lay down, allowing her overexerted muscles to rest and her lungs to catch their breath. She could feel the carpet fibers clinging to her sweaty face and her hair stuck ferociously to the back of her neck.

God she was tired. But she couldn't stop now. Not until Eli was out of the cellar and on his way to freedom.

Forcing herself back up onto her hands, Olivia swiveled around until her legs were in front of her and then slid on her backside down the cold cellar stairs, one painful step at a time. When she reached the bottom she had to pause again, closing her eyes and forcing her awareness away from the agony in her foot.

Why hadn't he just killed her? It would have been easier.

When her mind felt clear again, Olivia stared up hatefully at the iron giant of a door before her. Taking a deep breath and marshalling all her remaining strength, she used the protruding metal deadbolts to pull herself up into a standing position, careful to keep the weight off her mangled appendage. Slowly, once she felt more confident in her balance, Olivia placed her palm flat against the door to keep herself steady and threw back the external bolts before sticking the handy Swiss Army file into the keyhole.

This time, the lock opened quickly. Yanking the door open, Olivia peered into the murky abyss before her.

"Eli!" Her voice was raspy from misuse and Olivia was forced to clear her throat before trying again. "Eli, it's me. It's okay. You can come out."

The sound of small feet pattering across concrete echoed in the dank dungeon and moments later Eli appeared in the light cast through the open door, his hair sticking up in all directions and his face dirty. He looked terrified, but immensely happy to see her.

"Is Daddy here?" Eli's bottom lip trembled as he stared up at her with bright, hopeful eyes. "Are we safe?"

"Your dad isn't here sweetheart, but we are going to try to escape, okay? The man isn't here and we need to take advantage of that. It's important you do exactly as I say, okay?"

Nodding quickly, Eli trotted out of the cellar to join her at the bottom of the stairs, his skinny body drowning in his clothes. He had definitely lost weight and Olivia worried about his health and strength.

Would escape be worth it if they died trying? Maybe they should just hope and pray and wait for Elliot to find them?

No, that wasn't who she was. It was time to act.

Reaching down, Olivia gently sawed through the ropes that held Eli captive, dumping them unceremoniously on the floor. Slamming the heavy door behind them, Olivia steadied herself against the wall for a moment as Eli shot up the stairs, waiting anxiously for her at the top. Gripping the wall for support, Olivia hopped up the stairs slowly, gripping the cement wall so hard that she felt her fingernails break and blood cake underneath. It took her nearly three minutes to maneuver her way up the stairs, Eli glancing uneasily toward the front door the entire time.

Fortunately, "Elliot" never came.

"Follow me. Stay close." Despite the fact it was unnecessary, Olivia found herself whispering, her body wired and tense. At an aggravatingly slow pace, she first hopped into the kitchen, the muscles in her legs shaking as sweat dripped down her forehead and between her eyes. Even with adrenaline supporting the movement, each hop felt like a herculean effort.

Arriving in the bright kitchen, shiny appliances gleaming in the ambient light, Olivia frantically scanned the walls and all flat surfaces in search of a phone. Naturally, there wasn't one. Olivia cursed "Elliot" internally for being one of the majority of people in this day and age who only owned a cell phone. Frustrated, she continued through the kitchen until she emerged in the front foyer, using any surface within reach to boost her hops and maintain her balance. Eli tagged along at her heels, wide eyes taking in their humble surroundings.

When she reached the front foyer closet, Olivia yanked open the door and retrieved two of "Elliot's" large, heavy jackets, handing the warmest one to Eli as she slipped her own arms into the other.

"Keep this done up tight okay? It's cold out there, and you only have pajamas on." Leaning over as best she could, Olivia zipped up Eli's jacket before turning back to root in the top of the closet. Her hand encountered mostly empty, dusty shelf space, but she did manage to locate one pair of gloves and a warm hat that she passed to Eli. He looked so adorable, completely dwarfed in "Elliot's" large coat, hat, and gloves, that Olivia couldn't help but smile.

Fumbling around in the bottom of the closet, Olivia pulled out a pair of winter hiking boots for each of them. Eli slipped his on effortlessly, the size ten times too big for him. Olivia, on the other hand, had more of a struggle, sitting down on the oak bench in front of the door and biting her bottom lip in agony as she drew the salt-stained leather over her swollen toes. Even the slightest brush of contact caused a riot of pain to attack her nerve endings. After finally managing to wiggle it on, Olivia was so lightheaded she had to bend over and stuff her head between her knees, digging her fingernails into her thigh to keep from screaming.

"Livia?" Eli's frightened voice forced Olivia to open her eyes and smile at him shakily.

"I'm okay buddy, you ready?"

Squaring his thin shoulders, Eli nodded bravely as Olivia reached over to unlock the door. Grabbing a large umbrella that lounged behind a coat rack, Olivia found it would function relatively effectively as a cane. At least for a little while. At least until she could be sure Eli was safe.

With a small smile, Olivia opened the heavy interior door and pushed at the flimsy screen, nodding her head toward the snowy wonderland before them.

"Come on buddy. Let's do this."

In the time it had taken Olivia to crawl to the cellar and free Eli, the sun had disappeared behind a bank of dark, ominous clouds and the wind had picked up, pitching stinging flakes of snow in their faces as they stepped out onto a small porch. Squinting against the snow barrage, Olivia quickly took stock of the situation. The fallen snow was extremely deep out there in the country. Straining her eyes, Olivia was chagrined to see that there was nothing BUT country around them for as far as the eye could see. No distant houses. No visible neighbors. Nothing in front of them but miles of fields blanketed with white snow. Behind and to the left and right of them lurked a thick, foreboding forest. No car sitting outside either, eliminating any possibility for escape that way.

They would have to walk.

Unsure which way to head, Olivia took a deep breath and went with her gut, glancing toward the forest to her left. It might lead somewhere; it might lead nowhere. But all Olivia could think about was putting as much distance between them and that house of horrors as possible.

Hobbling down off the porch, Olivia sunk immediately into a pile of snow as high as her knee. She immediately felt the devious precipitation sneak into her boot and sting her swollen foot. Not that it mattered really. Numbness would be an improvement. Glancing back, Olivia motioned for Eli to follow and he did, jumping into a snow pile that almost reached his waist.

It was going to be a tough slog for both of them. No doubt about that.

"Stick close to me unless I tell you otherwise, okay Eli?" Smiling down at the young boy beside her, Olivia felt such a surge of love for him it was physically painful. There were a lot of things she didn't know – where they were, how far they would have to walk to find help, and how much time they had before "Elliot" came home and started following their snowy trail. But she did know with absolute certainty that she would not stop until help for Eli was close.

She owed that to him. She owed that to his father.

Burrowing into the heavy jacket, Olivia struck off on a path that ran parallel to the road but kept them tucked in behind the tree line, where the snow wasn't as deep and the heavy evergreens provided some reprieve from the wind. The occasional car drove past on the road, a flash of color between the trees, but Olivia dared not try to signal for help. She had no idea what "Elliot" drove and, with her luck lately, she feared the car she tried to flag down would end up being his. Not that she had to concern herself much with that anyway. Hardly any cars travelled down that isolated country road.

They walked for what must have been hours. Olivia had lost track of the time again after her brief exposure to the clock that morning, but she could tell that late afternoon was creeping up on them. Through openings in the canopy above, she could see the sky darkening. A light snow had started to fall and the wind picked up in gusts, silent one moment and roaring the next. In the embrace of the thick forest they were relatively protected, but Olivia sensed that their cover was starting to peter out, the giant trees now spaced further and further apart.

Eli trudged along bravely beside her, clutching Olivia's free hand and trying to support her the best he could as she hobbled. She could feel his eyes on her and she tried to force the pain from her features, aware that her body was failing. And fast. Each step took more energy than she possessed, even with the support of the umbrella. She was digging deep into her reserves and knew they were almost gone. She was cold, so very cold, but her body needed all of its energy just to keep moving. There was none to spare to warm her frozen appendages. She had to rest more frequently now, after every ten steps or so. Eli waited patiently for her to get her strength back, but she could tell from his eyes that he was scared for her. The only thing that kept her going, kept her pushing forward when she had no drive left, was the image of Elliot's handsome face in her mind.

She had to get his son back to him. She had to.

It was when they stumbled out of the edge of the forest into a clearing that she saw it. Far away in the distance, a tiny speck really, but distinguishable. A lone house sat up on the horizon, surrounded by acres of open farmland. The bright red and white barn stuck out like a wart on the landscape. It was only a mile or two away, probably reachable within half an hour to forty-five minutes. It was the most welcome sight Olivia had ever seen.

Eli was going to be okay. Suddenly, she felt sure of that.

Following her riveted gaze, Eli caught sight of the house as well and started bounding toward it, excitement fueling his second wind. He had gone maybe five feet when he noticed suddenly that Olivia was not following him. Glancing back, he saw that she had sat down in the snow-filled ditch that ran beside the road, the cane/umbrella resting beside her. Her eyes were open but she reminded him of a zombie he had seen in one of Dickie's horror movies - pale, with purple-black rings around her eyes, her bottom lip a light shade of blue.

"Come on Olivia. We're almost there. I can see help!" Eli's excitement was evident but not contagious. Struggling to keep her eyes open, Olivia motioned for Eli to come closer. Glancing up at the road nervously, he backtracked until he was standing beside her, his young blue eyes filled with worry.

"I'm sorry Eli. I can't go any further." Her voice was weak, barely a whisper, and the wind quickly took possession of it and tossed her words away.

"But you have to Livia. We're almost there."

"I know sweetheart, but I can't. I want you to go, okay? You head toward that house and find help. I know you can do it. It's straight down this road."

Eli hesitated, his eyes wide. "No, I don't want to leave you."

Olivia smiled at him, reaching up to give his hand a comforting squeeze. "I know, but you have to. You need to be brave. You have to leave me here and go on your own to that house, do you understand?"

Crystalline tears formed on Eli's cheeks as he looked down at her, his hesitation obvious but his survival instincts strong. Sensing he was wavering, Olivia pushed a little harder.

"Stick to the ditch until you get closer, okay? I know the snow is deeper there, but you will be harder to see if a car passes by on the road. Move as fast as you can to that house. Don't stop. I'm not sure where we are. I don't even know if we are in New York anymore. But when you find people at that house, I want you to tell them who you are. Ask them to call the police so you can tell them what happened too. Let the police know that your daddy works as a detective in Manhattan, New York City, at precinct 1-6. Do you think you can remember that?"

Watching her intently for a moment, Eli slowly nodded and bit his lower lip.

"I'll come back for you, okay?" His voice wobbled and broke as he looked down at her, partially buried in the snow. Olivia smiled at his words, certain without a doubt that he would, but also aware that by the time he did, it would be too late. Reaching up to cup his soft cheek, Olivia brushed away the tears that had frozen there.

"Don't worry about me, okay? I want you to go to that house and get help for yourself. Don't look back. Don't turn back. I need you to promise me Eli."

Eli nodded and drew in a shaky breath, squaring his shoulders. "I promise." Glancing at the distant house, he hesitated for only a moment longer. "I love you Livia."

"I love you too Eli." Olivia swallowed hard, fighting back her own tears. "When you see your daddy again, can you give him a message for me? Can you tell him that I love him? That would mean a lot to me."

Eli nodded with far too much maturity for his age, dropping down into the snow to give Olivia a tight hug. "I promise."

The contact was far too brief for Olivia's liking and after a moment Eli stood up again and turned around, looking back only once before striking out toward the house. She watched him go until the white curtain descending upon their little chunk of the world had swallowed him. Closing her eyes, Olivia murmured a quiet prayer, drawing the coat around herself tighter as a heaviness settled into her body. She prayed that Eli would make it safely to the house. That he would find caring people there who would warm him and feed him and comfort him until the police arrived. She prayed he would be reunited with Elliot quickly, that the man she loved would hold his son in his arms again soon. And she prayed that Eli would remember her message.

His promise was her last thought before she slipped into darkness.


	20. Hero

**Chapter 20 – Hero**

The interrogation room was hot.

Extremely hot. Stifling even.

Not that that was unexpected really. Seth had read all of the literature he could get his hands on about interrogation techniques, and the sultry hot room was pretty much Interrogation 101.

Hardly original.

The wobbly chair wasn't original either. Prior to his entry into the room, someone had removed the round foot from one of the legs so that every time Seth shifted, the chair wobbled. It was all part of a devious, yet ingenious, master plan. Operation "make the suspect uncomfortable" if you will. Uncomfortable suspects were more likely to break, to slip up. To divulge their dirty secrets.

But not Seth. Not him. He was strong, determined. No matter what they tried, regardless of the intimidation tactics they employed, he would give up nothing.

Shifting slightly in the unsteady chair, Seth used a hand to halt a drip of sweat that was threatening to trickle down the back of his neck. Absently wiping the clear liquid on his pants, he smiled contently to himself despite the heat. He didn't mind the scorching temperature, not really, but had he known that today was the day they would catch up with him, he would not have worn the heavy sweater his mother had knitted him shortly before she died. He would have opted for something lighter, something that breathed a bit.

Oh well. It didn't really matter. He wouldn't be there long. He didn't have anything to say after all.

A glance at his cheap watch informed Seth it was already close to five-thirty in the afternoon. He had been sitting in the interrogation room alone for about an hour now, his only companion a uniformed police officer who quickly made it clear he did not intend to participate in a conversation. Seth's nose hurt and he could feel black eyes forming, tightening the skin uncomfortably over his cheekbones. He scratched at the tape the ER nurse had affixed over the break in his nose as he wondered idly what Elliot was doing at that very second.

Observing him through the two-way mirror?

Running a background check, hoping to dredge up some dirty deeds from his past?

Seth chuckled to himself at that thought. If that was indeed what he was doing, Elliot was wasting his valuable time. He wouldn't find anything. Seth wasn't a criminal. He wasn't the scum of the earth like his father. As soon as he was old enough, Seth had changed back to his mother's maiden name, despite her steadfast refusal to do the same. She still felt a loyalty to her wicked husband that Seth could not fathom, but it had worked out in Seth's favor in the long run. Things really did happen for a reason. If the police ran a search of property connected to his name, all they would find was the rundown apartment in the city that they had already explored. His mother's name was on the deed to the country property where Olivia and Eli waited patiently for his return.

No, he was safe. Everything was fine.

Perfect actually.

His little "confession" outside the apartment was dumb, Seth wasn't too proud to admit that. Because of that, they could hold him for a little while. But only a little while. Seth blamed his indiscretion on the fact that Elliot was touching him - simple contact that had effectively short circuited his brain. It had activated in Seth an all-consuming desire to brag about what he had done, about his accomplishment. He had bested his mentor, his hero. How many people could claim that?

Elliot should have been proud. It took a lot of strength, a lot of patience, and a lot of planning to pull Seth's plan off.

Elliot should appreciate that.

They could only hold him for twenty-four hours without proof he had committed a crime. And he had been careful to ensure that there was no real proof. Even then, they would be wary of holding him for too long. They would want to release him. They would assume he was like every other stupid criminal and would lead them straight to his hiding place.

But not Seth. Not him.

Seth was way too smart for that.

When the small-windowed door to the interrogation room finally swung open and Elliot strode in, Seth felt the butterflies in his stomach ratchet up a notch and his heart start pounding furiously. Elliot looked imposing, strong . . . and angry. He was dressed crisply as usual, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, exposing powerful forearms. His blue eyes were icy and his posture was stiff, the large vein in his neck jutting out darkly against his skin. His normally clean-shaven face bore the rough hair of a beard that surrounded a grim mouth.

There was no doubt about it. Elliot Stabler was pissed.

After nodding to the uniform cop that stood guard beside the heavy iron door, Elliot turned his cool gaze to Seth, yanking out the chair across from him and sitting down on it backward, resting his muscled forearms on the back. As the uniform slipped quietly out the door, leaving them alone, Elliot took a deep breath and expelled it through his mouth slowly. He needed to remain calm. Needed to stay cool.

Leaning forward, Elliot eyed Seth maliciously. "I'm going to ask you one more time nicely. Where are they?" His voice was steady as he clearly articulated each word, but the turbulence underlying the smooth tone was clearly distinguishable.

Not intimidated in the least, Seth smiled serenely, an action that made his broken nose twinge painfully.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

The question made Elliot start visibly, but he smothered that involuntary reaction quickly, returning his face to neutral.

"No. Should I?"

Seth nodded slightly in acceptance of that answer. The disappointment he felt at not being memorable enough, although significant, was overruled by the thrill of being so close to his hero, of actually speaking to him.

Unable to help himself, Seth continued. "We met a long time ago."

Elliot bit his tongue to stifle the curiosity that almost got the better of him. The investigator in him wanted to know, wanted to understand, wanted to make sense of the pain, but Olivia and Eli were in danger. There was no time to search for "whys" - he had to focus on the "wheres". Cragen had warned him not to banter with this guy. It had been a condition of Elliot even being allowed to do the interrogation in the first place. If they started moving into dangerous, personal territory, Elliot would undoubtedly lose his temper.

The white bandage across Seth's nose was a testament to that.

Attempting to express a disinterest he didn't feel, Elliot leaned back slightly and ran his fingers over the smooth metal of the chair.

"Look, I'd l_ove_ to know what the hell is going through that twisted head of yours, but I'm a little too worried about Olivia and Eli at this moment to give a damn."

Elliot's tone dripped with sarcasm but that didn't deter Seth in the least. He had the upper hand, and he knew it.

Leaning back to mirror Elliot's posture, Seth dropped his hands onto the table in front of him, twisting the watch on his left wrist absently. "They're fine. You should trust me."

"Yeah, you've done a ton to earn my trust. So you admit you know where they are. Do you want a lawyer?"

"No." Seth studied him for a moment, smiling calmly, before turning his attention to the scarred table, running the edge of his fingernail along a worn groove.

Feeling his impatience mount and anger start to bubble in his gut, Elliot sat up straight in his chair and sighed loudly. He really, really wanted to punch this hump in the face again. But knowing violence would only get him yanked from the room, Elliot tried for reason instead.

"Look pal, kidnapping is bad enough. You're going to go to jail for a long time for that. Especially since you kidnapped a cop's wife, who is also a cop, and his son.

"Olivia is not your wife," Seth corrected mildly, his tone matter-of-fact.

Elliot brushed that comment away with a wave of his hand. "Minor detail. We've already got you for kidnapping. If you have hurt them in any way, it's just going to keep getting worse unless you help us out. And if they die . . . ." Elliot let that threat hang heavily in the air.

"I told you, they're fine." Seth spoke very slowly and patronizingly, as if admonishing a child.

"Prove it." The intensity in Elliot's voice grew tenfold, his blue eyes chilly as he fought the urge to jump across the table and strangle the man sitting there.

Seth appeared oblivious to the growing rage. He simply shrugged, a self-satisfied smirk still lurking across his lips. "It bothers you that they are happy with me, doesn't it?"

Elliot tensed, but quickly hid it. He refused to let this little psycho push his buttons. "No, it doesn't bother me. Because I know it's not true."

Seth laughed a little, his eyes still following his finger as it traced the groove in the table. "Your body is betraying you. It does bother you, I can tell. You forget that I know you very well. I've been watching you for a long time, a lot longer than you know. When you're upset, your jaw looks like it has been carved out of stone. That's how it looks right now. And the veins in your neck stick out. I know that you really want to punch me right now. I can tell by the way you're clenching and unclenching your fists."

Focusing intently on his breathing, Elliot didn't respond, just met Seth's gaze evenly.

Leaning back in his chair, Seth crossed his legs under the table with an amused, thoughtful expression. Fine. If Elliot wanted to play hardball, he was game.

"Okay, you want proof. Fine. I ate dinner with Eli last night. He doesn't like peas. I made him a bowlful, but he didn't eat them. He ate everything else that I put in front of him though. And like a good boy, he thanked me when he was done. You've brought him up well. I know my mom would really have liked him. And Olivia, Olivia slept in bed with me last night." Seth's eyes took on a faraway look, his pupils dilating and his breath hitching. "She really is beautiful, isn't she? Her skin is so soft, and she smells like heaven. You could get lost in her deep brown eyes. And she has an incredible body. I know she works out and her job helps her keep in shape too, but wow. You never really appreciate it until it is there in front of you. Last night, she was wearing these gorgeous silky bikini briefs-"

Seth's rambling was cut off by the loud scrape of Elliot's chair legs across the linoleum and then the rasp of the table legs as the table came shooting back at Seth and lodged itself in his gut. Gasping as the breath was knocked straight out of him, Seth doubled over, banging his forehead against the rutted table. Breaching the distance between them, Elliot grabbed Seth by the throat and started squeezing, feeling a gruesome sense of satisfaction when the smirk disappeared and his beady eyes bulged out. To Elliot's disappointment, the big bear of a man didn't fight back, didn't try to defend himself. If he had, Elliot would have had justification to squeeze tighter like he wanted to, to inflict a small portion of the pain on Seth that Seth had inflicted on Elliot. But when Seth refused to struggle, Elliot had no reason to continue his assault.

And Fin was right. Dead men can't talk.

Forcing Seth back violently into his chair, Elliot took a deep, soothing breath and reached down to fix his tie before slowly sinking back onto his chair.

Leaning back, Seth was quiet for a moment, his black eyes locked on Elliot as he gasped for breath. He reached up and gingerly rubbed his throbbing neck, clearing his throat several times until he felt confident to speak.

"You really don't like me, do you?" The question was rueful and not without a bit of amusement.

Struggling to remain calm, Elliot carefully moderated his tone. "Well, can you blame me? You have taken two people that I love very much away from me. How would you feel about that?"

The deflected question appeared to give Seth pause, and he bit his lip thoughtfully, gazing off into space for a moment before finally returning his eyes to Elliot's.

"I suppose I wouldn't like that very much," Seth admitted cheerfully, smiling widely again as his body relaxed, the fear having passed.

"What did I do to make you hate me so much that you would do that?" The question spilled out before Elliot really understood what he hoped to gain by asking it. Cragen was right. He was too tired. He shouldn't be doing this. He was having trouble staying focused on the questions that really mattered.

Leaning back further in his chair, Seth appeared shocked by the question, his mouth falling open into a wide "O" briefly before he snapped it shut and gathered his thoughts. "Hate you? I don't hate you. The exact opposite in fact." Seth leaned forward again abruptly, placing his hand over top of Elliot's momentarily before Elliot jerked his hand away in surprise and disgust. "You saved my life!"

Now it was Elliot's turn to be shocked. Slowly he straightened, returning his forearms to the table and frowning at the strange man across from him.

"You really don't remember me, do you?" Seth looked sadder at that knowledge this time than he had previously.

"No, I really don't," Elliot replied honestly, wiping sweat off his forehead and shifting impatiently in his seat. He wanted to turn the subject back to the location of his missing loved ones, but Seth seemed determined to tell his story, and a morbid part of Elliot was fascinated to hear it.

"When you first joined the force, many years ago, you saved me and my mother from my father. He was . . ." Seth paused for a moment, searching for the right word " . . .abusive. One night, when he was absurdly drunk, I thought for sure he was going to kill my mother. I tried to intervene, but I wasn't strong enough. You were though. You came crashing through the door like an avenging angel, stopped him, and then you carried me to safety. You went to court with me, helped me through the frightening process. You even held my hand when the verdict was read. I could never hate you! You are my hero."

Elliot felt his chest tighten uncomfortably as a few pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "In your scrapbook, I saw a newspaper clipping. There was a picture above the article that showed me carrying a little boy out of a house. That little boy was you, wasn't he?"

Seth nodded excitedly, his glasses bobbling up and down on his taped nose. "Yes! Yes, that was me. You saved my life that day. From that moment on, I knew I wanted to be exactly like you when I grew up." Seth smiled proudly, his beady eyes gleaming with pleasure. "And now I am. Now I have what you have. Finally, I have gotten what I deserve in repayment for all my suffering. Finally, my life is perfect!"

Elliot was stunned into silence, lost and wandering through the twisted logic of the man sitting calmly before him, a huge grin on his face. His mother always used to say that no good deed ever went unpunished. Elliot had had no idea growing up just how right she was. He had saved a man's life, only to have that same man now destroying his?

The irony was not lost on him.

Elliot opened his mouth to say something, but closed it after a moment, unsure of what could possibly be said. Seth's eyes never left his face the entire time Elliot sat, struggling for words, confusion paralyzing him. Just when he thought he had heard it all . . .

After a few moments of silence, Seth leaned forward on the table again, his eyes gentle and compassionate. "I did what I did because I had to Elliot. After the trial, you forgot about me. You stopped coming around. You were never there for me when I needed you after that final day in court. You had forgotten me. But that's okay, really it is." Seth nodded frantically as if to convince Elliot that it was, indeed, okay. "That won't ever happen again. You see, I did what I did because I had to help you remember me. I had to make sure you will never forget me again. And I did good, didn't I? From this day forward, for the rest of your life, my face is one that you will never forget."

Shaken to his core, Elliot stood up and slowly headed toward the interrogation room's door, desperate to escape for some fresh air, to clear his mind. This was all too twisted, too personal for him to comprehend. He was three feet from the exit when the door suddenly flew open and Cragen appeared, sweat beading on his forehead, his mouth set in a bleak line. His face was dark and his eyes troubled as he looked at his defeated detective.

"Elliot, we have to go, right now. We just got a call from the 3 – 8. They've got Eli."


	21. Message

**Chapter 21 – Message**

He hated hospitals.

Hated them with a passion. The look. The smell. The supercharged atmosphere of intense emotions.

The death.

Elliot was by no means a stranger to these unpleasant institutions. He visited one at least once a case typically, to interview a victim or pick up the results of a rape kit. When he first joined SVU and realized just how much time he would be spending in hospitals, Elliot had figured he would eventually get used to them or at the very least become ambivalent.

Wrong. He still hated them.

It was probably more the "death" part than anything.

It was bad enough when he had to walk through the foreboding sliding glass doors to meet with a victim.

It was a thousand times worse when that victim was someone he loved.

Cragen had barely put the department-issue sedan into park at St. Luke's Hospital when Elliot shot out the passenger side door, his open jacket flapping in the cold winter breeze as he ran across the asphalt parking lot. After the emergency room entrance slid open with a melodic ding, Elliot forced himself through a throng of people gathered in the waiting area and made his way over to the triage nurses. There had been a huge accident on the freeway that was snarling traffic for miles and many of the pile-up victims had been brought to St. Luke's, resulting in an ocean of people sitting and standing and waiting. Elliot had no choice but to wait impatiently in line as well while other frazzled loved ones begged for news on friends and family.

For some, the news was good. For others, bad.

Elliot wondered anxiously what it would be for him.

While on their way to the hospital, word had come over the police scanner that Olivia had been found and was on route to the hospital via ambulance. With Eli's direction, a search team had discovered her, nearly buried in a snow-filled ditch over a mile from the farmhouse where Eli had located help. She was unconscious and her vitals were extremely weak, but she was alive.

Barely. The medics were now in a race against time to get her warm and stabilized.

When he finally reached the front of the line, Elliot grunted his son's name to a harried triage nurse and was directed to a small room down the hall where his son was being examined. Cragen hung back with a promise to come get Elliot when Olivia's ambulance arrived, and he, Fin, and Munch all settled anxiously into the hard plastic waiting room chairs.

The gleaming hallways that extended like octopus tentacles from the hectic triage area were significantly quieter and less congested than the main emergency room. Elliot made good time down the hall, the heels of his dress shoes clicking rhythmically on the polished tiles. Pausing for a moment outside the threshold of Room 214, Elliot placed a heavy hand on the doorknob and peered through the small window to watch his youngest son, clad in a light blue hospital gown, chatting animatedly to the rest of his family who were arranged in a semi-circle around the bed.

When Eli caught sight of his father peering with evident relief through the window, his face lit up with a broad smile.

As Elliot entered the room, Eli propelled himself off the bed and was across the floor in seconds, launching himself into his father's arms. Elliot caught him mid-jump and lifted him up, hugging him tighter than he could ever remember having hugged him before. Eli felt frail in his arms and Elliot could see that he had lost weight, but the fierceness of his spirit as he clung to his father was undimmed.

"Eli . . ." Elliot murmured into his son's tiny shoulder, unable to suppress the cool tears that rushed to his ocean blue eyes. He held on to his son firmly, rubbing one meaty hand up and down his back, but Elliot couldn't have said if that was to soothe Eli as much as it was to soothe himself. "I love you."

"I love you too Daddy." Eli's voice was muffled as he buried his face into his father's neck, reveling in an overwhelming sense of safety for the first time in many days. "I was so scared. I didn't think I would see you again. That man . . ." Eli's voice trailed off and he trembled slightly, encouraging Elliot to hold him even closer.

"We've got him Eli. It's okay. I won't let him hurt you anymore."

With grim satisfaction, Elliot flashed back to the visible shock on Seth's face when Cragen announced Eli had been found. In that moment, the self-satisfied smirk had been vanquished, for good.

Bastard.

Eli appeared to take comfort in his father's promise, his small body relaxing and his thin arms loosening slightly. The comfort lasted only for a moment however. Just as abruptly as he had relaxed, Eli stiffened again and pulled his head off his father's shoulder to gaze down at him worriedly.

"Livia. Daddy, did they find her? I told them where to look. I wanted to go with them, but they told me no. They said they needed to take me to the hospital. But I told them, I told them where to go!" Eli's voice wavered with a desperate tinge that broke his father's heart.

"Yeah, they found her bud. She's on her way here in an ambulance." Elliot purposely omitted all indicators of her health status from the statement, not wanting to upset his son further. "You did really well. You are a brave boy."

Eli wasn't fooled for a second by his father's omission.

Undeterred, Eli's intelligent eyes never left Elliot's. "But is she going to be okay?"

Wishing he knew the answer to that himself, Elliot swallowed the lump in his throat and attempted to speak calmly. His son was traumatized enough without hearing the likely answer. "They're doing everything they can to help her bud."

Eli considered this for a moment before nodding slowly, worrying his bottom lip with small white teeth. No, Elliot hadn't fooled him at all.

Giving his son a soft kiss on the cheek, Elliot reluctantly lowered him to the ground. Slowly, with less enthusiasm than a moment before, Eli headed back over to the bed where his siblings waited patiently to dote on him.

"Elliot." Kathy's voice was soft at his elbow and Elliot turned his head in the direction of the sound, his solemn eyes watching Eli for a moment longer, his thoughts miles away. Physically, Kathy looked haggard, her blonde hair scraggly and dirty, her face pale and drawn. But relief had dispelled much of the exhaustion, and her eyes were clear as she reached out to give Elliot a hug.

Pulling back after a moment, Kathy kept one hand resting on Elliot's arm, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry Elliot. About what's happened to Olivia. About outing your relationship to the entire precinct. It was neither my business nor my place to say anything. I was just frantic, looking for anyone to blame but myself."

"It wasn't your fault Kath," Elliot reassured her, his blue eyes pained but compassionate. "The guy who took them, he's . . . twisted. And determined. We couldn't possibly have seen this coming. Let's just be glad it's over. One way or the other." Elliot smiled bitterly as his throat tightened and he again fought back a wave of tears.

"Eli says that Olivia saved his life. That she helped him escape, even though she was injured . . ." Kathy opened her mouth as if to say more, then closed it and smiled at Elliot softly. Simultaneously, the former couple turned their gazes to their children, all gathered around the youngest, their relief at his safe return palpable. "That's twice now. I owe her a huge apology. And a thank you."

Elliot was about to comment that he hoped Olivia would be around to accept both of those sentiments when the door to the room swung open and Cragen poked his head in, a strained and anxious look on his weary face.

"Sorry for interrupting. Elliot, Olivia's ambulance is just pulling up."

Without another word Elliot turned on his heels and trailed Don out of the room. Once in the hallway, Elliot quickly passed the older man as long strides propelled him across the luminous floor toward the ER ambulance entrance. He trotted up just as a stretcher came flying in, flanked on both sides by three focused paramedics. Doctors appeared from all directions to greet the stretcher, like cockroaches emerging after a light is extinguished. Two of the medics gripped the cool metal railings and pushed the stretcher hurriedly along while the third held an IV bag, squeezing it repeatedly, his gaze on the patient. All eyes in the waiting area turned with morbid curiosity to watch the stretcher wheel past.

If Elliot hadn't known in his heart it was Olivia, he wouldn't have recognized her.

Olivia's normally caramel skin was ghostly pale with dark circles ringing her eyes, her lips bluish-purple in color. Her face was virtually all of her that was visible; the remainder of her body was covered in a shiny silver thermal blanket, cocooned around her so as to trap in all available heat. An oxygen mask enclosed her nose and mouth and one of the paramedics reached down to adjust it slightly as the stretcher flew past Elliot on its way to one of the open treatment rooms.

Olivia's beautiful eyes were closed, oblivious to the chaos around her.

Elliot had seen her injured before, but never so close to death. It frightened him to his core.

"Olivia." Elliot took a step forward as the stretcher moved past, only to find himself quickly restrained by a hand on each of his shoulders. Grunting, Elliot tried to push the hands away, his heart constricting painfully as he watched the love of his life leave him behind. He could only barely make out the conversation of the paramedics now as they updated the doctors on their patient's status with horrifyingly bleak words.

"Blood pressure 85 over 60."

"Pulse thready."

"Core body temperature in the hypothermic range."

"Frostbite to the upper extremities, hands and fingers."

"Probable ankle fracture or infection."

"I need to go with her," Elliot mumbled numbly, eyes now struggling to follow the stretcher as he kept trying to bat the restraining hands away.

"Let the doctors do their jobs man." Fin's voice was strained, the emotion barely contained under the calm words as he and Munch held Elliot back. "There's nothing you can do for her right now. You would just be in the way."

Fin was right, and Elliot knew it. Ceasing his struggle, Elliot stood stiffly and helplessly as the stretcher disappeared into a room far down the hall and out of sight. The paramedics emerged from the room moments later and two more doctors streamed in, affixing white surgical masks over their faces as they walked.

"Cragen's gone to tell the nurses that you are the one to talk to once they have more information. All we can do now is wait." Munch's pale face was even paler than usual as he too stared down the hallway where the stretcher had vanished.

Conceding defeat, Elliot stepped wordlessly into the waiting area and dropped down onto an overstuffed sofa, lowering his tired head into his hands.

And so they waited. And waited. For hours with no word.

Elliot and Cragen, Munch and Fin. They sat and waited. And paced. And sat again. Flipped through ancient magazines. Watched the injured and ill trickle in, disappearing one-by-one into tiny rooms.

But still no word.

Elliot didn't plan to doze off but did anyway, awakening with a start only when he felt a small hand on his knee and a familiar voice in his ear.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?" Elliot's voice was husky as he blinked into the florescent lights, staring down at his youngest son. Eli was still unnaturally thin, but his clothes were fresh and his color improved. His blue eyes were alert as he observed his father carefully. Elliot glanced behind him and saw Kathy talking to a doctor while his other children stood off to the side, murmuring quietly amongst themselves. Fin was asleep in the chair beside him and Munch and Cragen sat quietly, staring up blindly at the muted TV on the wall.

"Is Livia going to be okay?" Eli's eyes were wide and hopeful as he repeated his earlier question. A question Elliot wished with all his heart he could answer affirmatively.

Drawing his son closer, Elliot shook his head resignedly. "I still don't know buddy. I hope so. The doctors are helping her now."

Eli nodded sadly, slipping his small hand into his father's. Elliot could see restraint marks on his wrists when the arms of his shirt slid up. "I'm praying for her."

Pulling his son into his arms, Elliot hugged him tightly, blocking tears for the millionth time that day. "I know son. I am too."

When Elliot eventually released him, Eli glanced over at his mother, who appeared to be wrapping up her conversation with the doctor, and then quickly looked back at his father with serious eyes.

"Livia asked me to give you a message," Eli whispered as he reached out and put his small hands on his father's broad shoulders.

"What's that?"

"She asked me to tell you that she loves you."

The words were spoken with such innocence and feeling that a spider web of cracks zigzagged through Elliot's heart. This time, he couldn't stop a few tears from sneaking out as he flashed to the image of his beloved Olivia, lifeless on that stretcher. Gently, Eli reached out and wiped his father's tears away.

"Thank you so much for giving me her message," Elliot managed to choke out before drawing his son into his lap and holding him close until Kathy approached, a sad, sympathetic smile on her face. Knowing it was time for Eli to go, Elliot reluctantly released him, placing him back down on his feet and smiling at him warmly.

"Can I see her? When she's feeling better?" Eli asked hopefully, reaching up to take his mother's hand while his eyes remained locked on his father's face.

"Of course you can," Elliot agreed with a smile, his voice gentle. "I bet she would really like that."

Eli nodded gravely and finally looked up at his mother, who stroked his curly blonde hair affectionately. The rest of Elliot's kids approached and he hugged them each in turn, his voice fierce as he told them he loved them. As they left he watched them walk away until they disappeared from sight, through the glass sliding doors and into the dark winter's night beyond.

"Elliot Stabler?" A deep voice had Elliot twisting back around on the couch. He looked up to meet a pair of kind light gray eyes fringed by heavy dark gray brows. "I'm Doctor Tolliver, Ms. Benson's attending physician."

Elliot stood up and automatically shook the man's hand, his stomach twisting nervously.

It was the moment of truth.

"How is she?" Elliot was a little shocked he got the question out given the tightness in his throat, but out it came, albeit strangled. A little voice chanted in his head "Don't say dead, don't say dead."

"Walk with me." Doctor Tolliver motioned for Elliot to follow him and together they left the now semi-quiet waiting room, strolling down a gleaming tile hallway as garbled voices called out inquiries over the PA system. Elliot followed mutely behind the doctor, desperately needing him to answer the question but dreading it all the same.

Only once they had turned down a quiet hallway did Doctor Tolliver begin speaking again.

"She's doing well, all things considered." At this revelation Elliot let out a huge whoosh of breath in relief and felt his knees tremble. She was okay. Everything was going to be okay. Silently, Elliot thanked God and promised to stop at church on his way home.

"She's in the intensive care ward for the moment, but I don't anticipate she will be there much longer," Dr. Tolliver continued, his light eyes gazing absently down the hall. "It took us a long time to get her warmed up. She must have been outside in the elements for quite a while before they got to her. Her hands and a portion of her face have second degree frostbite. We'll need to keep an eye on that. We have her hands wrapped up carefully and we'll keep checking the bandages, but blood flow seems to have been restored. She's able to move everything, which is a good sign."

"So she's awake?" Elliot asked hopefully, needing desperately to see her beautiful dark eyes, to hear her soft voice.

"In and out." The doctor shrugged. "I anticipate that will be the norm for a little bit. She was severely dehydrated, so there is no doubt she is exhausted. We're getting warmed fluids into her intravenously and she's responding to that well. She's a tough lady."

Elliot smiled despite himself. "That she is."

"Her one ankle is badly fractured, in two places at least. It's been untreated for a bit from the looks of the swelling. We had to cut the boot she was wearing off. We have it elevated now and in an air cast, but I'd really like to get her scheduled for surgery. I think it will heal much better if we can get in there and put a pin in it."

The doctor fell quiet for a moment, stopping in the hallway a few feet down from a row of bright green doors. He looked at Elliot curiously for a moment, and then continued. "I'm not sure if this is something I should be sharing with you, and I'm sorry if I'm letting the cat out of the bag, but Olivia told us that before she was taken, she suspected she was pregnant." He watched Elliot's face carefully for a moment. When he didn't see shock, the doctor felt comfortable continuing. "I'm not sure if you knew that . . . ."

Elliot nodded and scratched the back of his neck impatiently. "I knew she suspected. I'm the father. So . . . is she?"

The doctor shook his head uncertainly. "We sent a blood test into the lab. The results should be back shortly. I think, given what she's been through, and her age . . ." The doctor was obviously hesitant to speculate aloud, but Elliot knew what he was getting at.

"You think she miscarried." Elliot felt a jolt of sadness at the thought, for himself and especially Olivia. It was something she had wanted for so long.

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "I think it's as likely as not, assuming she was pregnant in the first place. Home pregnancy tests can be unreliable. But we will see when the results come back in. Bottom line is, she has insisted that I don't give her any medication for the considerable pain or schedule surgery until I know for sure. So right now we are holding. As soon as we get the results, I'll make sure she's comfortable."

Elliot inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly, reclining his head in acceptance. "Thank you Doctor. For everything. Can I go in to see her?"

Doctor Tolliver nodded, motioning to the first closed door several feet from where they stood. "Go ahead. When I know more, I'll come speak to you both."

Elliot nodded his thanks in return and walked over to the door, feeling his heart thud nervously. Would he be prepared for what he saw? Peering through the window cautiously as he had with Eli, Elliot looked in on his partner, best friend, lover, and soul mate.

Olivia lay motionless on the hospital bed surrounded by a motley crew of machines, most of which were hooked up to her in some way. Her hair was dark against the bright white pillow and, although still far too pale, the color in her face had improved significantly since she had first been wheeled in. The oxygen mask had been removed and even from the doorway Elliot could see her breathing steadily on her own, the thick blanket covering her rising and falling rhythmically as she slept. Her arms and one of her feet rested above rather than below the thermal covers. Both hands and a chunk of her one arm were wrapped in white gauze, with only the tiniest bit of a fingertip showing on some fingers. One side of her face bore a pink burn from the frostbite, but the dark circles under her eyes had lightened considerably. Her injured ankle was elevated in a stirrup, enrobed in a gray air cast.

Quietly, Elliot pushed open the heavy door and entered the room, absorbing the burble and hiss and beeps of the machines around her. Closing the door softly behind him, he stood back for a moment and took her in. She was safe. His Olivia was safe. Elliot closed his eyes briefly and murmured a quiet "Thank God".

When he reopened his eyes, her warm brown ones were looking back.

Heart fluttering and a lump rising in his throat, Elliot smiled at her. Her eyes were blurry, drowsy, but she smiled back at him easily.

"Hey you." Her voice was as husky as his had been earlier, and Elliot felt his heart happily skip a beat.

"Hey yourself." Elliot struggled to get the words out through the raging emotion. He moved to sit near her, pulling a chair up beside the bed, his hands trembling slightly as he lost himself in the melted chocolate of her eyes. He wanted to say more, so much more, but it was all tangled in his mind, so he settled on the simpler act of smiling instead.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you." Her voice was a whisper, but Olivia's smile was wide and genuine, if a bit lethargic.

"I think I have an idea," Elliot chuckled, taking a bandaged hand gently in his with the utmost care. "Almost as glad as I am to see you." Searching, he found one finger that was not completely bandaged and gently kissed the tip.

"Return of the mummy," Olivia joked quietly, feeling a powerful sense of warmth and happiness flood through her from being close again. Close to the man she loved. To the man she thought she would never see again. Elliot laughed lightly, reaching up with his free hand to stroke her hair, brushing the loose tendrils out of her face.

"I love you," Olivia whispered, gently extricating her bandaged hand from his to touch his cheek, eyes soft and wet.

"I know. Eli told me. As if I ever doubted it. I love you too." Elliot smiled warmly.

"Eli!" Suddenly Olivia tensed, her hand jerking away from his face and her eyes widening. When she struggled to sit up, Elliot immediately put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down, the machines around her beeping warningly. "Eli, Elliot, is he okay? I sent him for help, I-"

Elliot shushed her by covering her mouth with his hand.

"Liv, relax. You can't get upset like that. He's fine. Eli's great. He'll need counselling of course, but physically he's good. So good in fact they sent him home already. But he's eager to come back to see you."

Olivia relaxed, settling back into the bed as the heart monitor resumed a more moderate rhythm. "Thank God. He was so brave Elliot, so brave. He's a lot like you." Returning her hand to his, she closed her eyes for a moment and fell silent. Elliot too sat quietly, wanting her to drift back to sleep if she felt like it. Lord knows, she needed it.

Leaning over and nuzzling her forehead soothingly, Elliot let his lips rest there for a moment before drawing back. She was warm, pleasantly warm, and he felt relieved by that. Olivia reopened her eyes at the gentle contact, smiling at him lovingly. It was only when she shifted a bit on the bed that he saw the sleepy look replaced with a hot stab of agony as she glanced down briefly at her injured foot.

"How you feeling?" Elliot asked dryly, knowing the answer but feeling like it was a question he should broach anyway.

"I'm good." Olivia was eventually successful at forcing the pain back from her features but it took her several minutes. Reaching up, she ran her bandaged fingers over Elliot's growing beard. "What's up with this? You need a shave!"

Knowing she was trying to distract him from her pain, Elliot chuckled and let his hand rest on her forehead. "Nice try. You are such a liar. Olivia, you're in pain. Let the doctor give you something to make you comfortable."

Olivia shook her head, visibly hesitant, her mental wheels turning. "I . . . I can't. Elliot-"

He cut her off quickly, not wanting her to become upset again. "I know Liv. I saw the pregnancy test in your bathroom." Olivia exhaled carefully, relieved that he knew. "But let's face it, after what you've been through . . . Even the doctor says . . ."

Olivia nodded in acceptance of what he couldn't say, emotional pain clouding her features rather than physical pain this time. "I know. I know the odds . . . aren't good. But if I was, I would never forgive myself if I took something that could . . . hurt it . . . the baby."

The sound of the door creaking open suddenly drew their attention. After a moment, Fin appeared in the doorway, relieved but obviously unhappy.

"Hi Fin." Olivia greeted their friend quietly with a warm smile, thankful for the disruption.

"I am so damn glad to see you Liv," Fin responded, slipping into the room. Elliot was amused to note he didn't appear at all fazed to see them holding hands. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Cragen just got a call from the station. Kingsley is putting up a fuss about being held without being charged." Fin looked suddenly uncomfortable, his eyes darting back and forth between Elliot and Olivia. "I'm sorry to do this, but we really need to charge him. Liv, I'm going to have to ask for your statement."

"Not now Fin," barked Elliot, his eyes menacing, suddenly irrationally irritated at the intrusion. "She's not in any condition to give a statement."

Fin opened his mouth to respond but Olivia silenced him with a wave of her hand, turning her attention back to her boyfriend. "El, it's okay. You know better than anyone how important it is we get this done right away. I'm okay. Let's just do it."

Sighing heavily but giving in to his girlfriend's beautiful beseeching eyes, Elliot grabbed her hand and steeled himself to hear the details of her ordeal.

Even steeling himself, it was almost unbearable.

Elliot held it together relatively well until she got to the part about her ankle and the activities in the bedroom. By that point his body was so filled with rage he had to stand up and pace the room, his temper threatening to explode. The unadulterated cruelty . . . If he went back to the station now, that little maggot would be dead.

Recounting her story calmly to Fin, Olivia watched Elliot pace uneasily. When he was finally able to look back at her, she reached out a hand, silently asking him to come back to her. He immediately complied, sitting back down beside her and holding her hand as best he could. Wrapping up her story, Olivia confidently picked Seth out of a photo lineup. Fin kissed her cheek gently before leaving with a nod to Elliot, closing the door quietly behind him.

Exhaling loudly, Olivia turned weary eyes to her boyfriend. "I'm glad that's done with. On so many levels."

"Liv. . ." Elliot didn't even know where to begin, how to apologize for what he had brought on her. Sensing his struggle and the reason behind it, Olivia shook her head firmly, silencing him with a fingertip against his lips.

"This isn't your fault El. No matter what you think. No matter what this lunatic's reasons. This is not your fault. Now kiss me dammit."

Elliot couldn't help but smile as he leaned down to kiss her softly on the mouth. He had intended to keep it short and sweet, but Olivia had other plans, her mouth hungry and insistent against his. Her lips parted, invited him in, and he kissed her as passionately as he knew how, hoping to eradicate all the nasty memories of Seth.

And for a moment, he did.

It took the sound of a throat clearing behind them to break them apart. Craning their necks, Elliot and Olivia glanced toward the door to see Doctor Tolliver standing there uncomfortably, a white piece of paper held loosely in his hands.

"Sorry," he muttered apologetically, glancing away as they flushed slightly with embarrassment.

"No, it's fine Doctor," Olivia assured him, taking Elliot's hand in hers. Sucking in a deep breath, she marshaled her inner reserves and prepared for the bad news she knew was coming.

"So, what's the verdict?" Olivia tried to come across as flippant and disinterested, but she failed. When she spoke again, her voice trembled just a bit and her words gave away her true desires.

"Please tell me I'm still pregnant."

* * *

_A/N – A huge "Thank you" to all the wonderful people who have reviewed Perfect so far. Your comments have been kind, insightful, and motivating. Your enjoyment of the story has kept me writing. Thank you thank you thank you! _

_Now you have a choice. I am considering adding a final chapter as an epilogue. It would be light, not angsty at all for once, and you will find out the way I had envisioned the story ending. Or, I could just leave it here and allow you to end the story in your mind whatever way would make you happy. That would certainly be an SVU thing to do, wouldn't it?_

_What are your thoughts? One more chapter, or do you want to control the way it ends for yourself? Sometimes that can be more fun and satisfying._


	22. Perfect

_A/N – Thanks to everyone who responded to my question at the end of the last chapter and to everyone who has read and reviewed this story all the way along. It was unanimous, so here is the epilogue, the way I viewed the story ending. Hope you enjoy it._

**Epilogue – Perfect **

_Seven Months Later_

"Here's to Elliot . . ."

"To Elliot!"

A melodic tinkle of clinking glasses mixed amiably with the loud chorus of deep male voices, the ensuing refrain echoing merrily off the wood-paneled interior of the small cop bar. The popular police hangout was characteristically busy on a Friday night, but this particular evening was even more hectic than usual. The floor space was cluttered, stuffed to overflowing with law enforcement professionals who mingled shoulder-to-shoulder with old friends and new acquaintances. A banner bearing the words "Congratulations Elliot!" swayed lazily over a long table that stretched nearly all the way across the room. Waitresses squeezed carefully through the warm bodies with trays of drink and food, each trip growing more precarious as the alcohol really started to flow on that warm late summer night. The atmosphere was jovial as the attendees celebrated the retirement of one of their own.

The guest of honor sat comfortably in the middle of the long wooden table, surrounded on all sides by friends and colleagues. The air was thick with upbeat, cheery conversation, and Elliot felt blessed to find himself in such wonderful company. With Fin on one side, Adam on the other, and Munch lounging across the table, there was no shortage of good dialogue, hearty laughter, tasty food, and strong liquor.

"You are such a lucky bastard," Fin griped, wiping his mouth with a napkin after taking a long pull of beer in toast of Elliot. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed a content hand over his stomach. "Retiring. Wow."

"Who da thunk?" grinned Adam, carefully plucking a honey garlic chicken wing off the almost empty plate before him. "Elliot Stabler, finally hanging up the spurs."

"I've done my time. It's been a good run gentleman, a good run," Elliot acknowledged with a smile, sliding his empty but still perspiring beer glass along the scarred table between his hands. "Can't say I'm going to miss it though, not really. The _very_ early morning wake up calls, the devastated victims, the deranged perverts. Nope, not going to miss it much at all."

"Don't speak too soon," warned Munch, lifting the glistening pitcher to refill Elliot's glass. "I thought I would enjoy retirement too, but look where I am now. Back on the streets."

"That's because you're a damn conspiracy nut," grunted Fin, drenching his plate of French fries in ketchup before selecting one and chewing on it thoughtfully. "If you don't keep busy, you start suspecting yourself!"

When the laughter eventually died down, Adam took a small sip of his dark beer and asked more seriously, "So what _are_ you going to do with yourself old man?"

Leaning back in the hard wooden chair, Elliot stretched, grabbed his glass, and enjoyed another long swallow of his refreshing beverage before formulating an answer. He had lost track of how many times his tall glass had been refilled since his last official shift in SVU had ended several hours ago, not to mention how many shots he had thrown back at the insistence of well-wishers, but the one thing he was absolutely sure of was that he was feeling no pain.

"I won't have any trouble keeping busy. I reached out to a buddy who owns a private security company in Manhattan. They do a lot of big events around the city. I'm going to do some consulting for him, but probably not until next year. We move into the new house next month, and I have a lot of work ahead of me there. I need to get all my stuff as well as Liv's packed, and there will be some painting and basic repairs to do once we move in. We also have a couple of trips planned with all the kids, one down to Florida and then another out to the West Coast. No, staying out of trouble is not going to be a problem. But my plan is to relax for a bit before getting back to any serious work."

"Here's to having a plan," Adam grinned, raising his glass for the millionth toast of the evening. Cheers were seconded and glasses clinked, the men all falling silent to enjoy the refreshing flow of cold beer down their gullets.

"Well, guess I'd better make my rounds again," Elliot grunted, stretching once more before standing up and pushing back his chair with a scrape, leaving the other three men engrossed in conversation about previous drinking escapades. Beer in hand, Elliot wandered throughout the bar, receiving many slaps of congratulations on the back and shaking a variety of strong hands. As he mingled about, chatting with former colleagues and friends, Elliot realized with a pang that there was one thing about the job he _would_ miss.

The people.

As Elliot stood beside the packed bar, joking with Cragen and an old friend from MCS, he suddenly felt a soft hand on his back and turned to see Alex Cabot standing patiently behind him.

"I've got to be heading out El," she said by way of greeting, hugging him softly and dropping a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Congratulations. Enjoy your retirement. You deserve it."

"Thanks Alex," Elliot replied, returning the hug wholeheartedly. "It was good to see you again. The baby shower wrapping up?"

Glancing in the direction of the bar's private back room, Alex smiled wryly. "I think so. We've all just about had as much "oohing and ahhing" over baby stuff as we can take. Or at least Olivia has. She was looking a little green by the end of it."

Elliot laughed deeply and gave Alex another hug. "I'm glad you were able to come. It meant a lot to Liv."

"No problem." Stepping back, Alex was about to offer a final goodbye when suddenly Adam sidled up to the pair, a glint in his playful green eyes.

"Elliot, my man, you have been remiss in your duties." Adam's words may have been directed at Elliot, but his level gaze was on Alex.

Record time, Elliot chuckled quietly to himself. Adam must have knocked over his chair getting out of it so fast. "And how is that, may I ask?"

"I directed you specifically to introduce me to every beautiful woman you knew in this bar. And here you are, talking to one of _the_ most beautiful, and I know we haven't been introduced. I would have remembered." Adam smoothly held out a hand to Alex, his light eyes dancing merrily. "Hi. I'm Adam."

An amused grin twitching at the corner of her lips, Alex grasped his hand firmly and shook it. "Alex."

"Alex was just leaving," Elliot grinned, hoisting himself up on a recently vacated bar stool, his back leaning against the solid oak bar. He always enjoyed watching his long-time friend make a fool of himself.

"That's most unfortunate," Adam drawled, his eyes never leaving Alex's face as he moved a slight step closer. "Going home to a husband, boyfriend, girlfriend?"

Alex appeared nonplussed by his forwardness, polite amusement dancing on her features. "None of the above. My aunt actually. She's visiting from Europe."

"Really. That's interesting."

"Not particularly," smirked Alex wryly, her blue eyes flickering to Elliot for a moment before settling back on Adam's eager face.

"Well, how do you plan on getting home Alex?"

"The subway. And I really should be going. It was nice to meet you Adam." Tossing her purse back up to her shoulder, Alex glanced toward the door and Adam sensed his opportunity was quickly disappearing.

"A beautiful woman shouldn't walk alone to the subway at this time of the night. Not in this area."

Alex laughed genuinely, her blonde hair shining. "It's only just after eight o'clock. The sun isn't even completely down yet."

Buoyed by her laughter, Adam felt a boost of confidence. "Hey, I'm just being proactive! Maybe I could walk you to the subway station? Just to be safe?"

Elliot, immensely enjoying the byplay between the two, was somewhat surprised when Alex seemed to seriously consider it and then agreed.

"Sure. Why not?" With a wink at Elliot, Alex stepped back and rearranged her purse on her shoulder. "Congratulations again Elliot. I expect a call when the little one is born."

"You bet. Take care Alex." Watching his two friends work their way out of the crowded bar, Elliot couldn't help but shake his head with a chuckle. "Well I'll be damned."

Attention refocused after the momentary diversion, Elliot suddenly caught sight of Olivia, weaving her way between guests, greeting those she knew and smiling politely at those she didn't. She looked beyond gorgeous in a soft purple dress that flattered her curves, the empire waist billowing out over her heavily pregnant stomach, and Elliot saw more than one man do a double take. Her olive skin was radiant and her mahogany hair soft and shiny. She had taken to wearing her hair longer while pregnant, and he loved the way it cascaded in soft brown curls down her back. All in all, she glowed with a heart-stopping beauty that robbed Elliot and many other men in the room of their breath.

Seven months after her ordeal, and five months after Seth had been sentenced to twenty-five years in a psychiatric institute, the only physical reminder of the horrors she had endured was a slight limp that dogged her steps. It was more pronounced when the weather was bad, but today it was barely noticeable as she squeezed between the party goers. The emotional reminders, however, lingered far more powerfully, with vicious nightmares that roused her from sleep at least four times a week. But the counselling was helping with those too and last night she had slept peacefully through the entire night for the first time in almost a month.

Things were definitely looking up.

Absorbed in her travels through the crowd, Olivia didn't notice Elliot leaning languidly against the bar, and she shrieked a little when he snaked out a muscled arm to grab her and draw her against him.

"Hey beautiful. Where you been all my life?" Elliot murmured, rocking her in his arms as he dropped a soft kiss on her temple.

"Jesus Elliot," Olivia gasped, one hand flying to her chest as the other shot out to smack him lightly in the gut. "You scared me! You want me to give birth right here, or what?"

Ignoring her admonishment, Elliot chuckled and nuzzled her neck softly, savoring her unique scent. "Sorry. It's just that I haven't seen you for hours. I missed you." His arms tightened possessively around her as he pulled her to stand between his legs, enveloping her in warmth.

Amused at how openly affectionate Elliot always got after he had been drinking, Olivia grinned, turning around to face him and slipping her tanned arms over his shoulders. "You, my dear, reek of booze. How much have you had to drink?"

Elliot appeared to ponder that question for a moment, his eyes slightly glazed. He held out a meaty hand and attempted to actually count before giving up with a shake of his head. "I dunno. Lots?"

Olivia laughed at his slightly dazed expression and leaned forward, kissing him lightly. He tasted like an excitingly dangerous combination of whisky and beer and she got lost for a moment in the warmth of his mouth. It was only when his hands tightened on her and he tried to deepen the kiss that she backed up a bit, aware of the audience surrounding them.

Letting a hand drift up to Elliot's mouth, Olivia playfully ran a fingertip over his lips. "If you keep kissing me like that, I'm not going to be able to drive us home. They'll charge me with a DWI."

Elliot shot her a dirty look but couldn't help grinning, his light blue eyes warm and happy. "I'm not THAT bad. Anyway, how was your baby shower?"

"Great. We got a ton of nice stuff. Between the things Kathy gave us and what we got here, we will be set for a while."

Rubbing her back softly, his fingertips dancing over the spots he knew knots always formed, Elliot groaned. "Fantastic. More stuff to pack."

Shooting him a slightly irritated glance, Olivia pulled back a bit and put a hand on her hip. "I told you we shouldn't have let this happen. As soon as I found out Melinda was planning a baby shower, I should have put a stop to it. We don't need any more stuff. But oh no, you insisted we let it happen.

Tugging her closer again, Elliot's eyes were soft. "I know we don't need more stuff. But it's your first and only pregnancy. I just wanted you to have the full experience."

Melting, Olivia's posture loosened and her voice grew quieter as she leaned into his fit body. "I can help with the packing."

Elliot shook his head vehemently. "No way. You heard the doctor. No lifting anything heavier than a book. I'll do it, without complaining. I promise."

Turning around, Olivia pressed her back against Elliot's chest and rested her head on his shoulder, her silky hair tickling his nose. Slipping his arms around her waist, he rested his hands soothingly on her ample belly.

"It's nice so many people were able to come out for your retirement party," Olivia remarked, snuggling back into him as far as she could, relishing the contact. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Olivia frowned slightly, lifting her head off his shoulder. "Hey, did I just see Alex leaving with Adam?"

Elliot laughed deeply as he caressed her swollen belly lovingly. "Yeah. Believe it or not, you did."

"Wow. One of his lines actually worked?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Elliot grinned, nuzzling her hair lightly. "He convinced her to let him walk her to the subway station. Beyond that, I don't think he will get very far."

"Well, she could definitely do worse," Olivia admitted absently, returning her head to Elliot's shoulder and her eyes to the room surrounding them.

"She could," he agreed amiably. Removing one hand from her belly, he drew the hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed there softly. "It would work out better for me too. Then maybe he would stop hitting on you all the time. At least in front of me.

It was Olivia's turn to laugh. "He's just being a goof. He doesn't mean anything by it. He would never do anything to hurt you, you know that."

"I know. Still, it's irritating."

With a smile, Olivia slipped her hands down over his as they rested on her pregnant belly . They both sighed contently when the small life inside her kicked up gently at their hands.

Glancing down at Olivia, Elliot realized she had closed her eyes and was nestled contently into his neck, breathing deeply. Kissing the crown of her head, Elliot whispered softly into her hair. "You tired?"

Not realizing she had previously closed them, Olivia quickly reopened her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his warm steady breath on her neck. "No. Well, a little."

"Let's take off then."

"No!" Olivia protested, straightening up and shaking her head lightly, rubbing a hand over the back of her neck. "It's only going on eight-thirty. Some people will just be getting here. We can't have the guest of honor leaving already."

"Olivia, you're nine months pregnant, and I don't care what anyone else thinks. You say the word, and we're out of here."

Olivia shook her head again, more firmly this time. "I'm okay. I promise. If I get too tired, I'll let you know." Sighing, Olivia glanced down at her distended belly under their hands. "You know, I really love being pregnant, but I'm ready to meet the little guy. It sucks I've still got two and a half weeks left."

"The doctor thinks you are going to go early and there is no way he will let you go any later. The baby will be here any day, love."

"Not soon enough," Olivia whispered with a quiet smile, rubbing her stomach affectionately.

Lowering his mouth to a spot just under Olivia's ear, Elliot kissed there softly before scraping his teeth lightly over the skin, feeling a shiver course through her. "You know, I heard a rumor the other day."

Rolling her warm eyes with a rueful grin, Olivia decided to play along, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading. The same place it had the night before. "And what's that? What rumor did you hear?"

"I heard that making love can induce labor."

Olivia laughed. "Anything is possible, but I'd love to see you maneuver that tonight big fella."

"Judging from the sounds you were making last night, I'd say I know how to maneuver it pretty damn good." Elliot mumbled proudly, pulling her tighter against him so she could feel exactly what he planned to maneuver.

Olivia laughed again, her eyes twinkling playfully. "Well, last night you weren't three sheets to the wind. Regardless, we've got to stay here for at least a little while longer, so down boy." Olivia stepped away from him, turning around in his arms as Elliot grunted disappointedly. Reaching up, she kissed him briefly, her eyes closing in deference to the sheer power of the sensations of safety and love he invoked in her. "I love you."

Cupping her face gently and rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks, Elliot returned the sentiment with all the force he possessed. "I love you too. Always."

This time the kiss lasted a little longer and, when it finally ended, they were both breathless.

Stepping back, Olivia offered him a slender hand. "Come on. Want to go see the baby stuff we got?"

With a fake groan, Elliot hauled himself off the stool, leaving his beer glass on the bar. "That depends. Do I have to ooh and ahh?"

"No smartass. In fact, if you do, I'll shoot you. Even though I'm on desk duty, I still have my gun until the end of next week."

"Well then in that case, I'm in," Elliot said with a grin, taking her offered hand and allowing her to lead him toward the back room where the baby shower had been set up.

As they cut through the throng of people, tossing out greetings as they went, more than one group murmured to each other enviously just how nice it was to see the two of them together and so much in love. Despite everything that they had been through in the last year, they had emerged stronger and more committed than ever.

It could have gone another way, a much worse way, but it didn't.

It was a storybook ending. No one could deny that.

It really was perfect.

Just perfect.

**

* * *

**

END


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